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I»I».I0:ES S30 0£33Sra7£». 


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I ssued in a Convenient Form For the Pockel 

Voi I. No. 125. Mar.lO, 1884 Subscription $30 


Piiitered at the post olJice N. Y. as Second-Class Mat ter. 
-4-Munro’s Library is issued Tri- Weekly. 


COACeilAN’S LOVE 

on j 

tlie Heiress of a Million- 






By HERBERT BERNARJ). 


NEW YORK: 

NORMAN L. MUNRO, PUBL.:SHKE, 
24 & 26 Vandewateh or. 


COIIRIGHTEIA 18B4, BY NORMAN L. MONRO. 






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A COACHMAFS LOVE; 


OR, 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION. 


i/ 

BY HEEBEET BEENAED. 


Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1884, by Itor* 
man L. Munro, in the ojfice of the Lihi'arian of 
Congress^ at Washington, D. C. 



NOEMAN L. MUNEO, PUBLISHER, 

24 & 26 VANDEWATER ST. 




i 



Entered According to Act of Congress in the yc r 1884, hy Norman L, 
Mu7iro^ in the office of the Librarian Congress^ at 
Washington^ D. C. 


A COACHMAN’S LOVE; 

OR, 

THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION. 


By Herbert Bernard. 


CHAPTER 1. 

THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 

Fifth Avenue on a brilliant November afternoon. A 
frosty sunshine upon the quiet air. A cloudless blue heaven 
above, and the fashionable world, in gala attire, upon the pave- 
ment below. The sidewalks crowded with luxurious idlers, 
and a swarm of elegant equipages moving slowly up and down 
the stately street. 

It was a day made and fitted for the enjoyment of the 
^lite of great Gotham, for the ring of thoughtless laughter, 
the glitter of diamonds, and the frou-frou of costly silks. 

And such was the scene which Oscar Cameron gazed 
down on from his seat upon the box of the Widow Ver- 
non^s carriage, as he guided the pair of champing thorough- 
breds up town through the maze of wheels and whip-tops. 

Within the coupe sat the delicate figure of a young girl, 
scarcely yet past her eighteenth birthday, with a face fair as 
that of a pictured angel, framed in silky blonde curls, and 
set with a pair of eyes and lips which might rival the charm- 
ing tints of the Oriental sapphire and coral. 

To-day, however, the lips were ashen-hued and trembling, 
the roses faded from the wan cheeks, and the lovely eyes 


A COACHMAN^S LOVE'; OR, 

had about them deep purple lines that told of pain and suf- 
fering. 

The dainty pearl-gloved hands were tightly clasped about 
a tiny note, addressed in a tremulous hand, while ever and 
anon the young girl would lean forward, glance out fitfully 
at the houses they were passing, and then sink back upon 
the cushions, shrinking away into the corner of the vehicle 
as though anxious to escape the eager scrutiny of the pe- 
destrians upon the sidewalk, one and all of whom, recogniz- 
ing the equipage of the beautiful young Widow Vernon, were 
curious to see whether it were she or her lovely daughter, 
Rosalind, who was taking the air that brilliant afternoon. 

However, the curiosity-seekers were not destined to be 
appeased, for the slight figure was never visible, at least 
not until the mansion occupied by the Vernons, mother and 
daughter, came in sight. 

Then Rosalind Vernon started and laid her small hand 
upon the bell-cord. 

“ I must give it him now,^^ she murmured, in a low, des- 
perate tone, ‘‘ I dare not delay longer ! 

The tiny bell chimed, and Oscar Cameron, the coachman, 
bent his head to receive his young mistress’ order with an 
air of extreme deference, though with a sudden gleam of 
joyful anticipation in his fine, honest eyes. 

His face flushed hotly as the window was lowered, and 
instead of a verbal command, he saw the dainty, gloved hand 
appear widi a note upon which was inscribed his own name. 

He took the missive in silence and thrust it into the breast 
of his liveried coat, though it was only a supreme effort of 
self-control that prevented his pressing it to his quivering 
lips ; for be it known that this man loved Rosalind Vernon 
madly, hopelessly, fatally. 

And Rosalind — did she reciprocate his ardent passion? 
Wait, and we shall see. 

A few minutes after this slight but significant episode had 
occurred, the carriage drew up before the Vernon mansior^ 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION. 


3 


and the young girl sprang out, mounted the steps, and was 
shut from sight by the massive, oaken doors, with never a 
backward glance. 

With every pulse in his body throbbing painfully with an- 
ticipation and suspense, Oscar Cameron turned his horses’ 
heads towards the elegantly appointed stable at the back 
of the house, but no sooner had he driven in at the open 
doors than he sprang from his seat, flung the reins to an 
attendant groom, and bounding up the short flight of stairs, 
locked himself into his own room. 

Never stopping to remove his gloves or gold-banded hat, 
scarcely taking time to breathe, he snatched the note which 
Rosalind Vernon had given him from his breast and broke 
the seal. 

For an instant he paused irresolutely as the perfumed 
sheet lay open in his hand, a smile of hope struggling with 
the haggardness of dread upon his handsome face. 

Then he approached the window to catch the waning light, 
raised the paper and read. A quick gasp escaped his com- 
pressed lips, his eyes set in a hideous stare, the sheet flut- 
tered from his nerveless hand, and he sank like one stricken 
with paralysis upon a chair. 

The words he had read were these : — 

Our love is discovered and I fear we shall have to part. 
Heaven have mercy on you, my dear love, as on me. R.’’ 

That was all, but those few brief words had well-nigh given 
Oscar Cameron his death-blow. 

For several minutes the poor fellow sat stunned, gazing 
blankly into the gathering gloom ; at last he roused from 
his stupor, and resting his elbows upon his knees and lean- 
ing his head upon his hands, he knotted his fingers in the 
masses of his curling brown hair. ' 

“ O God, O God,” he cried in lonely anguish, what a 
fool I have been ! How dared I raise my eyes to one so far 


4 A COACHMAN’S LOVE; OR, 

removed, so high above me ? I, a slave in livery, a menial, 
her servant / 

He sprang to his feet as he uttered the last two words 
hissingly, and tore the coat from his shoulders in the very mad- 
ness of his despair. 

‘‘ Oh, Rosalind,*’ he cried, ‘‘ have you encouraged my love 
only to cast me off like a broken toy, to laugh at me ? No. 
no ! This is not her work. Heaven curse me for uttering 
one evil word against an angel so pure, so fair, so true ! No, 
she loves me ; it is the work of other hearty and other minds 
if we have to part ! ” 

Unable longer to bear the misery of being enclosed within 
those four small walls, he quickly changed the garments of 
his servility for an ordinary suit of some mixed stuff, and de- 
scending the stairs, passed out of the stable, and, crossing the 
avenue, took his way down towards the river into the hum- 
bler quarter of the East Side. 

will see Myra ancf tell her all,” he said to himself as 
he hurried onward through the twilight ; “ she is older and wiser 
than I ; she will counsel me how to act.” 

Ten minutes later he entered the door of one of the better 
class of tenement-houses and bounded up the stairs to the top 
floor, where he threw open a door and entered a room in 
which no lamp had yet been lighted. 

A girl, sitting by the window with a piece of dressmaking 
in her lap, laid aside her work and rose to meet him. 

She was tall and slim, with a dark complexion, deep, lus- 
trous eyes, and straight black hair that was drawn smoothly 
back from her pallid brow. 

Myra Cameron was not a young nor a handsome woman, 
but her face bespoke the strong character which had support- 
ed her bravely through the trials and hardship of a life spent 
in struggling with the wolf that lies ever watchful at the doors 
of the poor. 

One passion Myra Cameron possessed, and that was her love 
for her handsome brother, who had been confided to her 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION, 


5 


care by her widowed mother upon her death-bed, and such 
careful guard and loving care had she bestowed upon, 
this brother that when he entered the gloomy room she need 
ed no light to read the lines of suffering upon his counte- 
nance. 

“ What is it, Oscar she demanded abruptly ; what has 
happened } ’’ 

“ Nothing.’’ 

Do not tell me that. I know better.” 

For answer he threw himself upon a chair, and gave vent 
to a deep-drawn sigh, which he was powerless to repress. 

Standing erect before him, her pale face almost ghastly in 
the waning light, Myra Cameron asked, 

‘‘ Have you lost your place, Oscar ? ” 

‘‘Not yet.” 

“ But you expect to, then ? ” 

“Yes.” 

“ For what reason ? ” 

“ Perhaps I have failed to suit my employer.” 

She burst into a harsh, joyless laugh. “ Do not seek to 
deceive me ! ” she cried ; “ if you have to leave the Vernons 
it is because they have discovered your mad, foolish love for 
Rosalind. Oh, Oscar, Oscar, how could you be so blind as 
not to see that that girl was only making a fool of you ! ” 

“ It is false ! ” he cried, springing wildly to his feet ; “ it is 
false ! I tell you that Rosalind Vernon loved me as she never 
loved another, and that she loves me still.” 

“ Folly ! What are you, a coachman, that she, heiress to 
untold wealth, should love you ? She played with you while 
it suited her fancy, but she loves another.” 

“ It is a cursed lie ! ” 

“ It is the truth ! ” 

“ Prove it ! ” 

She turned from him and lighted a candle that stood upon 
the plain deal table, and selected a newspaper from among 
several that lay together upon a chair. 


6 


A COACHMAN'S LOVE ; OE, 


‘‘ Would you believe me, if you see it all in black and 
white ? ’’ she asked. 

He snatched the paper from her hand, but ere he could 
read, the brief paragraph that was marked with a pencil, Myra 
said, ‘‘ I show you this for your own good, Oscar ; though it 
may deal you pain for the moment, it is no more than right 
that you should know what all the city is talking about.’’ 

Then his eyes scanned the cruel words. 

' Marriage in high life. We understand that a double mar- 
riage is soon to be solemnized in one of our Fifth Avenue pal- 
aces, when the millionaire, Gordon Balfour leads the young 
and beautiful widow, Mrs. Adelaide Vernon, to the hyme- 
neal altar and Mr. Lionel Balfour follows his uncle’s excellent 
example with the lovely Miss Rosalind Vernon.” 

Oscar Cameron crushed ‘the paper between his clenched 
hands and cast it from him. 

‘‘ You believe now ? ” inquired Myra. 

‘‘I believe that Rosalind Vernon may be the dupe of her 
scheming mother,” was the passionate response, “ but this 
gossip is no proof that she has ceased to love me ! ” 

While he was speaking, Myra’s attention had been attracted 
by some sound below in the street, and going to the window 
she had seen a cab stop and a lady enter the house. 

If you are not yet convinced,” she breathed, going swiftly 
to him, ^^ask Rosalind Vernon’s mother. She is here 

‘‘Mrs. Vernon here!” gasped the astonished man ; but 
there was no reply, for Myra had passed out of the room by 
a side-door, leaving him alone to meet his employer. 

A moment or two later a light rap sounded upon the door 
leading out upon the stair-landing, and in answer to the low 
permission to enter the door opened and the figure of a 
graceful woman crossed the threshold. 

It was Adelaide Vernon, a woman in the full tide of her 
power and matchless beauty, an accomplished lady to all out- 
ward appearances, and the leader of fashion in the gay Paris 
of the New World. She was blonde like her daughter, only 


7 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION. 

that her eyes were gray and deep-set, dark with the myste- 
rious, fathomless abyss that behind them. : 

She advanced with the sinuous grace that was peculiar to 
her, the russet velvet and sables of her costly attire sweeping 
the bare floor with a sound like the smothered hiss of a ser- 
pent. 

Oscar,’’ she said, ‘‘ I wished to see you, and was told by 
the groom, George, that you had probably gone to your sister.” 

“ You need not have taken the trouble of coming here, 
madam,” he said frigidly. 

‘‘ My object was to see you alone,” she said, fixing her 
bright eyes upon him ; ‘‘ I wished to tell you that I require 
your services no longer.” 

He bowed his head in silence. 

“ And more than that,” continued the lady, “ I demand the 
letters which my foolish daughter has been inveigled into 
writing you.” 

He bit his lip until the blood started at this insult. 

“ For what reason, by what right do you demand those let- 
ters ? ” he asked haughtily. 

“ I am to marry the head of one of the most honored and 
respected houses in this country, a man without a blemish 
upon his character,”. she said, tapping the floor with her dainty 
foot at the annoyance of having to explain to a menial : “ one 
of the conditions of my marriage with the Honorable Gordon 
Balfour is that I will give my daughter to his nephew, Lionel, 
who is at present in Europe. Were it known that Rosalind 
had compromised herself with her coachman and yielded in 
a moment of girlish folly to the disgrace of writing to him, 
the whole affair would fall to the dust. Therefore I demand 
those letters.” 

“ And has Miss Rosalind authorized you to take these pre- 
cious objects from me ? ” Oscar Cameron asked, in a tone 
that was almost a wail of agony. ' 

For answer the lady drew a bit of paper from the velvet 
pouch at her side and handed it to the young man. 


8 


A COACHMAN^S LOVE; OR, 


With dazed eyes he read the following words written in 
Rosalind’s hand : 

‘‘Oscar Cameron. Be good enough to deliver to my 
mother all the letters which I have ever written you. I do not 
beg, but demand this favor. Rosalind Vernon.” 

He did not start nor utter a sound ; he merely raised his 
haggard eyes to the proudly expectant face before him. 

“ I refuse to return those letters,” he said icily. 

Adelaide Vernon started as though she had received the 
stab of a hidden dagger. 

“ You refuse ! ” she gasped ; “ what then do you intend to do 
with them ? ” 

“ Keep them, — keep them until ” 

“ Until you see fit to show them to Gordon Balfour or his 
nephew, I suppose 1 ” 

“ Possibly so. ” 

“ Would money tempt you to part with the letters ? ” she 
asked, trying this last chance. 

He bent a glance of withering scorn upon her as he replied, 

“ I have given you my answer, madam, and have nothing 
further to say.” 

“ So be it,” she breathed ; “ keep the useless things. I defy 
you ! ” 

With that she turned and swept like an empress from the 
humble chamber. 

When Myra returned, she found her brother sitting by the 
window, his forehead leaning against the frosty pane. She 
asked him no questions concerning the interview, for she had 
heard all. 

It was close upon eight o’clock that same evening, and the 
frugal, almost untasted meal, was over, when a rap came upon 
the door and a messenger-boy entered with a note for Oscar 
Cameron. 

A look of surprise crossed the young man’s deadened, hag- 
gard face as he broke the seal and read these lines : — 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION. 


9 


Mr. Welford, having been informed by Mrs. Vernon that 
she has dismissed Oscar Cameron from her service, would 
be pleased to see him at the Fifth Avenue Hotel this evening 
at nine.” 

Leaning over her brothers shoulder, Myra Cameron read 
the words simultaneously. 

You will not keep the appointment, Oscar ? ” she said 
anxiously. 

“ Why not ? ” he asked, moodily ; “ I am out of employ- 
ment and cannot come down upon you to support me. Cer- 
tainly I shall go ; it may be an excellent chance.” 

When he arose and tgok his hat, Myra went to him and laid 
her hands in his. 

You will come back to-night, Oscar ? ” she said. 

‘‘ If you can accommodate me here,” he replied. 

At what time ? ” 

Not later than eleven.” 

I can depend upon your word ? ” 

If I am alive I will be here at eleven, sister.” 

He stooped and pressed a kiss upon her pallid forehead, 
and without another word left her. And Myra Cameron sat 
by the window, looking down into the desolate street, and 
counted the dreary hours away. 

Nine — ten — eleven ! 

She clasped her icy hands as she faltered, 

“ He has broken his word ; he will not come ! ” 

Twelve — one — two ! 

She staggered to her feet and fell upon her knees, knotting 
her thin hands in her back hair. 

He is dead ! ” she breathed in an awful whisper that 
cehoed through the silent room ; Oscar, my brother, is 
dead:* 


10 


A COACm/A.V^S L0y£; OR, 


CHAPTER II. 

MIDNIGHT VIGILS. 

On the same night that Myra Cameron held her dreary vigil 
in the lonesome tenement way over on the East Side, she had 
companions in a similar position that she little dreamed of in 
another part of the city. 

Leaning against a lamp-post, half way up the ascent of 
Fifth Avenue, stood a man of tall and slender proportions, 
muffled from the feet to the ears in an Ulster coat of some 
heavy, dark material, while a slouched hat drawn over the 
eyes precluded all chance of catching a glimpse of his 
face. 

The first hour after midnight had just chimed from a neigh- 
boring church-tower and the man had remained in that same 
position for at least an hour, save that he had taken a few 
hasty strides up and down the sidewalk to keep the chilled 
blood circulating in his veins. For with set of sun a frosty 
dampness had set in which nipped cruelly at the extremities 
of any unfortunate wayfarer who was obliged to face the 
inclemency of the November night ; but whether moving or 
standing still, the person never once removed his fixed gaze 
from the window in the third story of a stately mansion oppo- 
site, where a bright light was burning steadily, even at that late 
hour, behind the thin Swiss muslin that draped the casement. 

There could be no doubt that the man’s attention, and 
perhaps curiosity, was excited by the mysterious pantomime of 
a woman’ s figure constantly passing and repassing the lighted 
window, restlessly pacing up and down the chamber without 
stint or stay, utterly oblivious of the fact that she had an 
unseen watcher, so absorbed was she in her reflections which 
it was plain to be seen could not fail to be of an exciting' 
nature. 

At first the man eyed the apparition with considerable 
nonchalance, but as the hours advanced his interest increased 
in proportion, and in a low tone he said to himself, “ I would 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION, 


II 


wager a bottle of wine that there’s something queer in there 
to-night/’ 

As he spoke, he drew from a cavernous pocket a handker- 
chief of the finest texture in order to wipe the frosty rime 
from the blonde mustache that had strayed out over his high 
collar, and as he did so the air was filled with that peculiar and 
pungent perfume known to those conversant with the secrets 
of the toilet as Ylang-Ylang. 

A woman, scurrying along the icy pavement, halted abruptly 
as the singular fragrance met her nostrils, and exclaimed as 
if in surprise, “ Can that be you^ sir ? ” 

‘‘Yes,” was the muttered reply; “pass on; I don’t wish to 
be disturbed.” 

The woman drew her threadbare shawl closer about her 
thin shoulders and shiveringly hurried away, being quickly 
swallowed up in the shadows and the mist. 

A few minutes later the church-clock tolled the half hour 
after one, and simultaneously the figure of a stout, thick-set 
man darted across the avenue from a side-street, and plung- 
ing down the area steps of the house in which the light burned, 
let himself in below with a latch-key. 

At the same instant the silent watcher beneath the street- 
lamp redoubled his vigilance, and was rewarded very shortly 
by seeing the muslin draperies sway slightly, as though a 
draught of air had been caused by the opening of a door, 
while a low mumble of satisfaction escaped him as the restless 
figure vanished and appeared no more, though the light still 
continued to burn. 

“ As I thought ! ” he muttered with a smack of satisfaction, 
“ I have not waited in vain. There is some secret business on 
foot. Having won my bottle of wine. I’ll go and have 
it.” 

He pulled up his collar about his ears and started down 
the avenue in the direction of Delmonico’s at a brisk pace. 

The chamber in which that mysterious light burned so 
steadily proved to be the boudoir of the widowed beauty, 


12 


A COACHMAN'S LOVE; OE, 


Mrs. Adelaide Vernon. Within those four walls wealth and 
the decorator’s art had outdone themselves. 

The vaulted ceiling represented a sunny sky flecked 
with flying birds, while the walls, adorned one third of the 
way down with airy frescoes, were shrouded for th^ remain- 
der of their length in soft, rose-tinted silk that depended 
trom silver rods. The furniture, of the most luxurious shapes, 
was upholstered in the same harmonious tints, and was in 
perfect keeping with the superb toilet-table, upon which stood 
two silver candelabra, in which burned many wax-lights, 
shedding their soft lustre upon the almost fairy-like scene. 

It was Adelaide Vernon who had been discovered in her 
restless vigil, pacing unceasingly up and down upon the 
velvet pile of the carpet. 

So rigid and set were the delicate lines of her face that 
the beauty had almost departed therefrom, leaving her 
pallid, hollow-eyed, and with the ghastly haggardness of one 
who bears a secret of blood upon her soul. Nor was her 
attire, a sweeping wrapper of snow-white cashmere and 
swan’s down, the least relief to the pallor with which it con- 
trasted. 

Once and once only., in that dreary march did the lady 
leave the boudoir, and then it was to pass silently into the 
shaded dimness of an adjoining chamber, where, upon a dainty 
bed of silk and lace, lay the graceful form of her daughter, 
Rosalind Vernon, sunken in a sleep of deep exhaustion. 

The pallid cheeks were still there, as well as the purple 
lines of suffering about the veiled eyes, but there was a 
smile upon the quivering lips, and just as her mother ap- 
proached the bed a word floated out upon the silence ; that 
word was — “ Oscar.” 

Adelaide Vernon turned away with a fierce frown upon 
her face. 

I do not regret the step I have taken,” she breathed 
savagely ; ‘‘ I do not regret it, and never shall. The idea 
of a child of mine being allied with a miserable, low-lived 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION, 


wretch like that ! I should never be able to raise my head 
above such a scandal ! Besides, it would be the utter ruin 
and downfall of my dearest hopes. Oh, no, my dear Rosa- 
lind ’’ — with a cruel smile — ‘‘ your unworthy love must yield 
before your mother^s ambition ! 

She had reached the boudoir again, and at the moment a 
jewelled time-piece upon the mantle struck the half-hour 
after one. 

Adelaide Vernon paused and stamped het tiny foot. 

Will he never come ! ’’ she was just murmuring, when a 
cautious rap sounded upon the panel of the door leading into 
the hall. She leaped back a step and crushed a lace hand- 
kerchief upon her lips to stifle tl>e shriek of terror which 
battled for utterance. The summons was repeated ere she 
could gain sufficient command to go and draw the bolt. 

Without a single word of permission a man entered the 
apartment, a stout, thick-set man, with a white, smoothly- 
shaven face and short, iron-gray hair. 

His attire, plain but scrupulously neat, glistened with 
the frosty mist he had left in the streets, and though it 
might have been expected from the freshness of the night, 
no vestige of color tinted his ghastly cheeks. His eyes were 
haggard and his whole attitude was that of one spent and 
exhausted with terrible excitement. 

For several seconds he panted so violently as to be unable 
to speak, and in the trying pause Akielaide Vernon breathed, 

“ Well, well, what news ? ’’ 

It is done ! 

I am very thankful ! 

She uttered the words in a gasp of intense, almost savage, 
satisfaction, as she sank faintly, overcome with the play of 
her emotions, upon a deep reclining chair that stood beside 
the toilet-table. 

‘‘ And you carried out all my instructions to the letter 2 
she continued, when the application of a crystal vinaigrette 


H 


A COACHMAN^S LOVE ; OR, 


to her quivering nostrils had assisted her to regain her com- 
posure ; ‘‘ to the letter^ Denwood ? ” 

The man raised his blank, expressionless eyes to her ex- 
cited face as he replied, 

‘‘ To the letter, madam/’ 

“ In that case you are fully entitled to the reward which I 
promised you.” 

She opened an exquisite Indian casket at her elbow and 
selected from its Velvet-lined depths a roll of bills, large 
enough to cause the most avaricious eye to dance with de- 
light. “ Here,” she said, extending the money in the palm 
of her small white hand, which the man accepted in silence; 
“ now give me the packet.” 

The man started slig+itly, tremblingly twitching at the 
brim of his slouched hat. 

‘‘ I am very sorry, Mrs. Vernon,” he stammered ; very 
sorry, but ” 

Sorry for what ? ” she gasped, rising suddenly to her feet. 

‘‘ That I have not got the packet ; it was not on him.” 

And yet you did as directed ? ” she breathed in horror. 

I thought by his actions he had it about him,” Denwood 
explained, ‘‘ and so I ” 

Stop ! ” she commanded ; “ hush ! I do not wish to hear 
anything about it. You are sure you made no mistake?” 

Quite sure, madam.” 

‘‘Very well, you may go.” 

She bit her lip with annoyance until the bright blood dyed 
her pearly teeth. 

“ No, stop one minute ! ” she exclaimed as the man 
reached the door ; “ I suppose you consider you have been 
well paid for your — your trouble, Denwood ? ” 

“You have been very generous, madam.” 

“And that it is far more \,o your interest than to mine that 
the affair should be kept a profound secret ? ” 

“ Certainly, madam.” 

“ Enough then. Go ! ’^ 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION, 


*5 


With the respectful obeisance of a trained servant Rodney 
Denwood left the presence of his fair mistress. 

When he had gone, Adelaide Vernon dropped weakly 
back upon her chair. 

“ There is something wrong, she murmured ; “ something 
crooked in this night’s business. I have not the object for 
which I have risked reputation, honor, even life itself. But hav- 
ing gone thus far I will not rest until it is in my possession. 
I must keep my hold upon Denwood ; after my marriage it 
shall be my care that he passes from my service into that of 
Gordon Balfour. I am rarely mistaken, and it is my firm 
conviction that this fellow is not to be trusted.” 

She sat a few minutes lost in' intense reverie ; at last 
she arose, extinguished the candles, and going to the win- 
dow, drew aside the muslin draperies and opened it. 

The icy breath of the approaching dawn rushed in upon 
her and fanned her fevered brow. She leaned from the case- 
ment to inhale the freshness, and suddenly recoiled with a 
stifled cry. 

Below in the street, standing in relief against the blinking 
gas-lamp, she saw a black figure, the figure of a woman, with 
one arm raised, as though calling down the vengeance of 
Heaven. Adelaide Vernon did not look again, for with a 
gasp of terror she fell with a dull crash and lay upon the 
floor like one dead. 


CHAPTER III. 


MOTHER AND DAUGHTER. 

A LOW moan of distress, and the sound of a heavy fall 
which jarred the delicate bric-a-brac in the silent rooms and 
set the crystal drops upon the chandeliers jingling, aroused 
Rosalind Vernon from her sleep with a violent start. 

So confused and bewildered was she at being thus ruth- 
lessly snatched from slumber, that for an instant she fancied 
herself still walking in that ecstatic dream from which she 
had been awakened, and her first thought was that soine 


i6 


A COACHMAN’S LOVE ; OR, 


dreadful calamity had befallen the man she loved with all 
the strength of her first, pure affection ; that some accident 
had happened to Oscar Cameron. 

She sprang up in bed and glanced wildly round the dimly- 
lighted apartment. “ Oscar, she breathed fearfully ; ‘‘ where 
are you ? What has happened ? Are you ” 

The delusion vanished ere the completion of the sentence ; 
quick as as a flash of lightning her tiny white feet descended 
upon the Persian rug before the bed, and she stood, intently 
listening, her snowy robe trailing about her, her golden hair 
loose and falling in a shower about her graceful shoulders. 
In that moment Rosalind Vernon was beautiful beyond the 
power of the pen to describe, or the artist’s brush to portray. 

She paused thus a moment, irresolution and alarm de- 
picted upon every feature of her lovely face and in the out- 
lines of her faultless figure. 

Suddenly, as her eyes became accustomed to the gloom, 
she descried, with a gasp of unutterable horror, a pair of 
white arms lying upon the floor of the adjoining chamber, 
the door of which stood wide open, while over those arms 
lay, like a veil, the tresses of her mother’s yellow hair. 

With a low, inarticulate cry the horrified girl darted across 
the threshold that separated the two rooms and threw herself 
beside the insensible form of Adelaide Vernon, where it lay 
just as it had been stricken down by the sight of that dark 
spectre in the lamp-light of the street below. 

With trembling hands and quivering lips pressed upon the 
damp, ashen brow, Rosalind raised her mother in her arms, 
calling her by all the endearing epithets which are sponta- 
neous with such an affectionate nature as was hers. 

“ Mother, look up, speak to me ! Oh, mother, mother, it is 
I, your own Rosalind ! Oh, Father in Heaven, grant that she 
may not be dead ! ” 

Thus passionately conjured, Adelaide Vernon slowly re- 
gained her consciousness, reason and memory fluttering back 
to her tortured brain like two terrified birds. 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION, 17 

Rosalind/’ she faltered faintly, glancing up into her 
daughter’s lovely face as she lay wrapped in the fond em- 
brace. 

Yes, it is I, mother,” was the reply in a tone of relief ; 
“ oh, how you startled me ! What has happened ? Were you 
ill ? ” 

Adelaide Vernon, cunning diplomat that she was to the 
very core of her heart, was thoroughly herself in an instant, 
and did not allow this telling opportunity to escape her. 

“ Not ill in body, my dear child,” she murmured, but in 
mind.” 

Because I was headstrong and worried you before I went 
to sleep } ” 

Yes, Rosalind.” 

‘‘Oh, forgive me, mother,” the girl cried contritely; “for- 
give me, and I promise never to trouble you more ! ” 

The lady arose and took her daughter in her arms. 

“ Look into my eyes, child,” she said, “ look into my eyes 
and repeat those welcome words.” 

Rosalind hesitated and the faint sea-shell tint faded out of 
her cheeks. 

“ I will never trouble you more, mother,” she faltered, 
“ but oh, be merciful to me ! ” 

Adelaide Vernon’s face hardened to the semblance of grav- 
en marble, and her voice was harsh and determined as she 
said, 

“ I will be merciful when you are reasonable.” 

“ And you thi-nk it reasonable for you to command me to 
marry Lionel Balfour, a man I scarcely know, and whom I can 
never love,” Rosalind cried piteously. 

“Lionel is a noble, handsome fellow,” the widow said, 
“ and love will come when once you are married.” 

Rosalind recoiled out of her mother’s arms, and reared 
herself almost defiantly before her. 

“ Never ! ” she exclaimed resolutely, “ though I were twenty 
times married to Lionel Balfour, I could never love him ! ” 


i8 A COACmiAN^S LOVE ; OR, 

Then it does not matter whether you love him or not ! ’’ 

‘^What?’’ 

‘‘ Rosalind, listen to me. I mean what I say, and it is my 
will that you marry young Balfour. If you cannot be dutiful 
enough to yield to my wishes, I must be forced to tell you 
that it is necessary that this marriage should take place.” 

‘‘Why?” 

“ It is one of the conditions upon which Gordon Balfour 
makes me his wife. He fears a misalliance on your part 
which might disgrace his name ; you know him for an honor- 
able but intensely proud man. Then, too, unless I marry 
him, what is tp become of us ? Through mistaken specula- 
tions I have lost all your father left us ! How then shall we 
find bread and shelter, two weak women alone in the 
world ? ” 

“ I will work for you, mother ! ” 

“ Bah ! What could you do ? Nonsense ! No, Rosalind, 
our fate depends upon your accejDtance of Lionel Balfour as 
your husband.” 

“ You ask me to commit a crime ! ” cried the distracted 
girl, clasping her hands piteously. 

“ How is it a crime ? ” demanded the lady. 

“ Because I love another ! ” 

Adelaide Vernon darted upon her daughter and caught her 
delicate arm in a vice-like grip. 

“You fool 1 ”she hissed furiously, “you love an underling ; 
you have disgraced yourself by compromising your honor to 
my coachman 1 For shame, Rosalind, for shame ! ” 

“ Mother, mother ! ” 

She had fallen upon her knees at her mother’s feet and 
rais.ed her hands to stay the tempest of mad words ; but the 
flood-gates were open and the inundation must come. 

Adelaide Vernon bent over her shrinking child as she 
breathed, 

“ Rosalind Vernon, you may as well know the truth first as 
last ! Oscar Cameron has been dismissed from my service, 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION, 


19 


has accepted a sum of money from me, and has left the city. 
So ends your folly ! 

A low cry of anguish echoed the cruel words, as the inno- 
cent girl fell forward in a dead swoon. And thus the gray 
light, stealing in like a thief, illumined the first scene in the 
tragedy of Rosalind Vernon’s life. 

CHAPTER IV. 

FACE TO FACE. 

The events narrated in the foregoing chapters occurred on 
the night of the 20th of November, a date which will be fre- 
quently referred to in the progress of our story. 

On the following morning the train over the Pennsylvania 
Railroad which arrives in Jersey City at noon brought among 
its passengers a young man of singularly frank and noble ap- 
pearance, who bore the unmistakable stamp of one who fol- 
lows the hazards and fortunes of the sea for a livelihood. 

Eugene Clifford, for so this young man will be known 
throughout the exciting incidents into which his fate had cast 
him, had been a neighbor and constant companion of Oscar 
and Myra Cameron in those happy days now dead when 
their home had been upon the Jersey coast, and it might have 
been a sentiment rather deeper than mere friendship which 
had prompted Eugene Clifford to say to Myra Cameron, when 
they had parted two years before, 

‘‘ Remember, Myra, if you are ever in trouble, send for me, 
and if I am on land I will come to you.” 

And Eugene Clifford had kept his promise when an unex- 
pected summons for his aid had come. 

On the morning of November 21 a telegram had been 
handed him just as he was starting out for a day’s blue-fishing. 
The message contained the following imperative words : — 

6 ^ ^ Come at once. Am alone and in trouble. 

H “ Myra.” 

So without a word Eugene had thrown his tackle into a 


20 


A COACHMAN'S LOVE; OR, 


corner, changed his tarpaulins for a suit of dark tweed, and 
was crossing the Desbrosses Street ferry to the New York 
side just as the clock chimed the half hour after noon. 

Ere the next hour sounded, he had crossed town and was 
making his way up the narrow stairway of the tenement 
where Myra Cameron had her lodgings. 

All the way up from his sea-side home the young fellow 
had been cudgelling his brains for the probable reason of this 
mysterious summons. 

“ Myra would never have sent for he told himself, ‘‘un- 
less she were pushed to the last. She never encouraged my 
attentions, although she could not have been so blind as not 
to see that I love her as I can never can love another. What 
can have happened 

He asked himself this question as he mounted the stairs to 
Myra^s room ; the answer came when, having knocked for ad- 
mittance and received no reply, he opened the door and en- 
tered the familiar room. 

He started back with a gasp of dread as he noticed the 
darkened windows, the chairs set back against the wall, and 
Oscar’s picture, the only ornament which the room contained, 
veiled with a black cloth. 

Ere, however, he was able to frame a single exclamation, 
Myra entered by a side door and laid her icy hands in his. 

The girl was more pallid than ever, and her plain black 
dress, unrelieved by a scrap of color, set off her ghastliness 
to a startling degree. 

“ My brother is dead,” she said, in a voice in which there 
was no choking and no hint of tears. 

Eugene Clifford mastered his emotion as best he might 
and replied, 

“ You need not tell me that, my poor girl ; I know all.” 

“ All! You know all ? ” she cried bitterly ; “ did you know 
that Oscar had been murdered I ” 

Oscar Cameron’s friend dropped the girl’s hands and re- 
coiled a step, stricken with horror. 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION, 


21 


Merciful God ! ” he gasped ; Myra Cameron, are you 
telling me the truth, or is this some hideous joke-? ’’ 

“ It is the truth, she said frigidly ; though it may be 
viewed in the light of a joke by certain parties ! 

He led her to a chair, and seating himself beside her be- 
sought her to tell him all, the facts and her suspicions as 
well. 

And Myra Cameron told him all, — all which the reader al- 
ready knows, — told him of her brother’s hopeless, fatal love 
for Rosalind Vernon, of the interference of her proud, am- 
bitious mother, of that lady’s stormy interview with Os- 
car about the letters, of the mysterious summons of Mr. 
Welford to call upon him at the Fifth Avenue Hotel, of her 
brother’s promise to return that night if he lived, and of 
his mysterious disappearance. 

And have you been to the hotel ? ” Eugene asked, when 
she had concluded her strange narration. 

Yes,^’ was the reply, ‘‘ and to no purpose. The clerk in- 
formed me that a Mr. Welford had registered his name upon 
the books at eight o’clock last evening, and that an hour later 
a person answering to my brother’s description had called, 
asked for Mr. Welford, and gone away with him after a few 
words had been exchanged.” 

‘‘ But was Oscar in the habit of carrying this packet of let- 
ters about him ? ” 

“ Always. How often, when I have rallied him upon the 
folly of preserving these tokens of a young girl’s nonsense, 
which never did and never could mean anything, he has said 
in his solemn way, ‘ Sister, I would sooner part with life than 
with these ! ’ Oh, yes, they have murdered him in order to ob- 
tain these compromising letters ! ” 

“ I cannot believe it,” the young man said incredulously ; 
“ Myra, such crimes are not committed for such reasons in 
these days.” 

Whatever reply these words might have called forth was 
silenced by the sound of a carriage suddenly stopping in 


A CO A CHMAi^S LOVE; OR, 


the quiet street below, and being near the window Myra par- 
tially opened one of the shutters and glanced out. 

Thereupon she started violently and laid a trembling hand 
upon -Eugene Clifford’s arm. 

It is the authoress of Oscar’s ruin again ! ” she gasped 
in a hoarse whisper ; “ Mrs. Vernon is here ! Go into the next 
room and leave the door ajar,” she continued ; ‘‘ I wish you 
to hear all that passes between us.” 

Scarcely had the young fellow ensconced himself in his am- 
bush, when a light rap sounded upon the door leading out up- 
on the stair-landing. 

Come in,” said Myra Cameron, and the door immediately 
opened to admit the graceful figure of Adelaide Vernon, at- 
tired almost wholly in a costly costume of sealskin. 

The lady paused as she found herself confronted by the 
immovable form of Myra. 

The room was enveloped in dense shade and there hung a 
dotted lace veil before the widow’s lovely face, but in spite 
of all it was apparent that her eyes wore the brilliance of 
steel, and that there was a hectic flush upon her cheeks which 
heightened her beauty to a marvellous degree. 

“ I came,” she began, when Myra neither stirred nor spoke, 
‘‘ to tell your brother that I had reconsidered my somewhat 
hasty determination of yesterday, and to ask him to return to 
my service.” 

‘‘He will be unable to do so,” was the reply in a hollow 
voice. 

“ Indeed ? And may I inquire why ? ” 

“ Because my brother is dead ! ” 

Adelaide Vernon recoiled a step in horrified amazement. 

“ Good Heavens, girl,” she cried ; “ you have given me a 
frightful shock ! ” 

“ Indeed ? ” 

Without noticing the condigned sarcasm conveyed by that 
single word, the lady went on breathlessly. 

“ Tell me when and how your brother died.” 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION, 


23 


“ I prefer not to rehearse the painful affair,” was Myra’s 
frigid reply. 

‘^Ican quite understand that,” said Mrs. Vernon, ‘‘ and 
will not pain you by pressing my curiosity. There is but one 
favor I will ask of you and then I will trouble you no longer. 
Will you grant it ? ” 

“ If I am able.” 

Of course you know that your brother received several silly 
letters from my daughter during the term of his service with 
me, and now that he is gone of course they can be of no 
value.” 

Well ? ” 

‘‘ Will you return those letters to me ? ” 

‘‘ I cannot, madam.” 

You cannot ? why ? ” 

‘‘ Because my brother left no letters in my charge,” w^s 
Myra’s brief reply. 

Adelaide Vernon bit her lip hard to prevent herself from 
crying out with annoyance. 

Do you think then that he had them about him when — 
when he died ? ” she asked. 

“ I am sure of it.” 

Mrs. Vernon bowed stiffly. 

“ Thank you,” she murmured ; am sincerely sorry to have 
disturbed you in your bereavement. Good-morning, Miss 
Cameron. If I can be of any service to you, do not hesitate 
to call upon me.” 

She turned and swept out of the apartment in the same 
stately way in which she had entered, leaving Myra standing 
like a statue graven from the solid stone. 

The moment, however, the door closed upon the graceful 
figure, the girl darted to the inner door and threw it open. 

“ Have you heard ? ” she demanded fiercely. 

“ Yes,” was Eugene Clifford’s husky reply. 

‘‘ Every word ? ” 

“ Every word.” 


24 


A COACHMAN'S LOVE ; OR, 


‘‘ Well, what is your verdict ? Is she guilty or not guilty ? ” 

The strong man dropped upon the nearest chair and buried 
his face in his hands. 

My God,’' he cried, do not ask me, for I do not know. 
All that I do know is that my friend has been murdered, and 
that henceforth my life and strength shall be spent in fer- 
reting out the perpetrators of the foul crime ! ” 

A smile like the baleful light of the ignis fatuus flitted over 
the pallid face of Myra Cameron. 

Thank Heaven you have come. I shall no longer be 
alone in my work of vengeance,” was all she said. 

Meanwhile Mrs. Vernon had reached her carriage in the 
street below, upon the box of which sat Rodney Denwood at- 
tired in a suit of Oscar Cameron’s livery. 

As she opened the carriage-door the lady said in a sibilant 
whisper, 

‘‘ You will take me where you took him to-night 1 ” 

Denwood started so violently that he was in danger of los- 
ing his hold upon the restive horses. 

“You cannot mean what you say, madam,” he stammered 
as loudly as he dared. 

“I mean every word I say,” was the low reply; “come to 
me at eleven o’clock ; I shall be ready.” 

The man gathered up the reins as she entered the carriage, 
and guided the horses up town towards Fifth Avenue. 

It was about this same hour that Gordon Balfour, the mill- 
ionaire, arrived in town from a hunting-expedition in the 
neighborhood of his country-seat upon the Hudson and was 
driven at once to his splendid residence in Gramercy Park. 

As he entered his stately hall an observer would have been 
constrained to remark that the man was well fitted to adorn 
the lofty position which he held in the world of society and 
letters. 

Physically grand as a typical emperor, Gordon Balfour had 
twice served as ambassador to the courts of Europe, had been 
a senator at Washington, and might have occupied even a 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION. 


25 


loftier post in the history of his country had he been willing 
to lend his honored name to the candidacy. 

He was a man of spotless integrity, fearless courage and 
boundless pride. No shadow of shame had ever dimmed the 
name he bore, and though a gallant among ladies he had 
never thought of marriage until the beautiful Widow Vernon 
had crossed his path. Then, and then only, had he fallen 
deeply, madly in love, had offered his name and fortune, and 
been accepted ere the last Newport season had terminated. 

He had been separated from the woman he idolized as an 
angel for the past fortnight, and therefore scarcely had he 
concluded a hasty dinner when he set out on foot for the 
Vernon mansion in Fifth Avenue. 

Having descended his own steps, he noticed that a woman, 
clad in a threadbare shawl and scanty garments, suddenly 
started from the umbrage of the trees opposite, and ere he 
had proceeded ten steps he felt a light touch upon his shoulder. 

“ Excuse me, Mr. Balfour,*’ faltered a timid voice. 

Gordon Balfour thrust his hand into his pocket and with- 
drew it filled with small coins. 

Noting this, the woman said hastily, I do not wish to beg, 
sir ; it is a warning I have to give you.” 

‘‘ A warning ! ” exclaimed the gentleman with a shade of 
annoyance ; ‘‘ a warning against whom, or what, pray ? ” 

“ Against the lady you are about to make your wife ! ” 

Gordon Balfour was upon the point of making some indig- 
nant retort when he suddenly checked himself. 

I have heard that this infamous system of blackmailing 
is largely practised in this city, and now I am going to prove 
the truth of the report,” he said, harshly ; what have you 
to say ? ” 

“ Nothing of myself,” was the reply ; but if you will fol- 
low me, I will take you to those who are prepared to speak, 
and who have something to say quite worth your hearing. 
Oh, you may return to your house and leave your money and 
jewellery if you fear to come,” she added as he hesitated. 


26 


A COACHMAN^S LOVE; OR, 


“ Lead on/’ he said proudly ; I not only dare but desire 
to put an end to this vile calumny.” 

Thus commanded, the mysterious woman turned, and cross- 
ing Third Avenue, walked swiftly down a side-street until she 
paused before a dilapidated house that fronted on the East 
River. The place was dismal and deserted ; no cheery light 
shone from the broken windows, and the door bore this legend 
in letters of black upon a white field, — “ To Let.” 

Inserting a key in the rusty lock, the woman faced her com- 
panion. 

“ If you wish to turn back even now,” she said, ‘‘ you are 
free to do so.” 

Gordon Balfour merely made a haughtily impatient gesture, 
and she entered the dark, echoing hall, and he followed closely. 

Opening a door upon the right of the hall, the pair entered 
what was probably a spacious room, though the intense dark- 
ness and icy chill of the place were all that was apparent 

The woman touched the gentleman’s arm and whispered, 

“ Wait and listen ! ” 

She then withdrew, closing the door behind her. For the 
first time in his life Gordon Balfour experienced a shiver of 
horror ; he had faced danger and death in many forms un- 
flinchingly, yet never had he been placed in such an uncanny, 
blood-curdling position. 

He held his breath and listened intently, though all he 
was able to hear was the low sap of the dark river as it washed 
in and out among the piers outside the house. 

He strained his eyes but could discern nothing by the 
feeble starlight that sifted in through the begrimed 
panes. 

At last, however, he started violently, every pulse in his 
body vibrating like the rudely smitten strings of a harp. 

He was conscious of a living presence in the tornb-like 
room beside himself ! 

Stiflirig a gasp, he whirled around, and, lo ! in the farther 
corner, defined even upon the darkness, he saw a black figure. 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION 


27 


the figure of a woman veiled from head to foot in impenetra- 
ble blackness. 

With a muttered exclamation he sprang towards the grue- 
some apparition only to be arrested by a ghastly white hand 
and a low, melodious voice, which said. 

Stand where you are, Gordon Balfour, or I leave you. I 
am here on no idle errand. Listen, and profit by the appall- 
ing secret I have to impart ! 

Inexpressibly awed by the tone of that low voice, Gordon 
Balfour paused and attempted to command himself for the 
revelation which loomed before him. 


CHAPTER V. 

A ’ DANGEROUS ALLY. 

‘‘ Hear me, as you value your good name and the honor of 
your respected family ! 

Thus mysteriously and terribly enjoined, Gordon Balfour 
paused in the centre of that dark, tomb-like room, and held 
his breath, while the black, ghostly presence,- whose outlines 
were lost upon the background of shapeless gloom, receded 
a few steps until it paused at a safe distance from the ner- 
vous clenching of the gentleman^s hands. 

There was nothing supernatural about this display of cau- 
tion on the part of the unknown, though Gordon Balfour 
was far too much excited and wrought up to notice this reas- 
suring circumstance. 

Besides, there was something very suggestive of warm, puls- 
ing blood and human passion in the strangely low, melodious 
voice, as it continued, 

“ Gordon Balfour, you are a doomed man if you so far dis- 
grace yourself as to make Adelaide Vernon your wife.^’ 

He started furiously at the accusation, every drop of blood 
receding to his heart, leaving his haughty face ghastly in the 
struggling starlight. 

“ Enough of these vile insinuations ! he cried huskily ; “ if 
you have a direct accusation to make against the noblest, pur- 


28 


A COACHMAN^S LOVE; OR, 


est and best woman in all this city, make it, and have done 
with this infamous trickery ! ’’ 

‘‘ I know whereof 1 speak,’^ the dark presence went on stead- 
ily ; ‘‘ I knew Adelaide Vernon.” 

‘‘ And I love her ! ” exclaimed the impetuous man. 

“ Ay, but do you know her ? ” 

“ I am a man in the prime of life,” he said haughtily ; my 
years well nigh number half-a-century, and do you dare to in- 
sinuate that when I love as I do this Jady whose name has the 
misfortune to be called in question by unworthy lips to-night, 
that I do not also understand her simple, straightforward 
character ? ” 

“ Yes, I dare to insinuate just that ! ” 

The words were pronounced with such decision that Gor- 
don Balfour recoiled a step. 

‘‘ What ! ” he cried, ‘‘ 5 ^ou persist in your folly Tell me, 
then, what you have against the woman I love "t ” 

“ And would make your wife } ” 

“ Certainly ! Why should I not ? ” 

“ Because she is unworthy the consideration of any hon- 
est man.” 

“ Impudent trifler ! Were you a man 1 would wring your 
tongue out for that miserable insult, in spite of the halo of 
foolish mystery in which you wrap yourself ! ” 

The dark form glided forward a pace and halted as the echo 
of his impassioned words died away upon the gruesome silence 
of the chamber. 

“You say you love the woman you are about to marry,” 
the melodious voice said ; “ would you then sacrifice your 
honor upon the altar of that love ! ” 

“ No,” was the ready response ; “ my honor I would ne7^er 
part with, for it belongs to the generations which are dead 
and those to come bearing my name. My li/e is at the dis- 
posal of the one I love, but not my honor ! ” 

“ Then spurn the woman you love from your path ! ” 

“ Why should I ? ” 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION. 29 

“ Because she will be as a viper in your bosom, poison in 
your cup; the murderous worm which shall destroy the fair 
bloom upon the name of Balfour ! ” a 

Liar ! You shall answer for that base calumny in a court 
of law ! ’’ 

He was about to spring in his fury upon the intangible 
shape, when the apparition of a ghastly white hand arrested 
his steps. 

Touch me, and I am gone ! ’’ warned the low voice, and 
you miss hearing the fearful secret which you have risked 
your life by coming here to hear ! ’’ 

^‘Fearful secret! ” muttered the annoyed auditor. 

“Yes, fearful secret,” was the reply; “ for know, Gordon 
Balfour, that the woman you would wed is stained with 
crime 1 ” 

“ My God ! What crime ? ” 

“ The most fearful in the entire list of human sins.” 

Well-well ? ” 

“The crime of — murder 

A wild yell resounded through the chamber, like the cry of 
an infuriated animal, as the gentleman darted forward and 
madly clutched the empty air. 

“ Gone ! ” he gasped in stupefaction. “ Merciful Heaven, 
she has gone ; but how ? whither ? ” 

With rapid steps and trembling hands he made the circuit 
of the empty room, touching and sounding every inch of the 
wdl that came within his reach, but he could discover no 
means of egress save the door by which he had entered, the 
broken window, which proved to be nailed securely to its 
frame, and a huge fire-place that was littered with a heap of 
plaster which had fallen from the ruinous ceiling. 

Unable to bear the horror of his situation Balfour darted 
into the hallway, felt his way up the creaking staircase, and 
knocked loudly upon the doors, all of which he found locked 
in the upper passage. 


A COACHMAN^S LOVE; OR, 


30 

Not a ray of light appeared, and the frigid dampness seemed 
all the more cutting the higher he went. 

At last he called authoritatively, 

‘‘ Ho, there ! Is there any one in this house ? ” His 
courageous blood congealed in his veins at the horrible, 
whispering echo that answered him, — 

“ Any one in this house ? ’’ 

Finding that it was a mere waste of time and perhaps a 
risk to his life, all unarmed as he was, to remain longer in so 
questionable a position, the gentleman descended the stairs 
and made his way out into the star-lit street. 

Another glance at the blackened, dilapidated front of the 
building assured him that it was untenanted save by the 
mysterious presence which had so cunningly eluded his grasp, 
and even its influence, uncanny as it was, was mitigated by 
the scent of the fresh air and the sound of distant life in the 
city streets. The horror which had been upon him seemed 
to evaporate in a measure, and he gave vent to a hollow, joy- 
less laugh. 

It was all some vile, cowardly trick ! ’’ he murmured, as 
he made his way along the dark street, but it shall not fail 
to be investigated if there is sufficient detective ability in this 
city for the purpose.’’ 

Scarcely had he gained the corner where the first gas-lamp 
shed a dim radiance upon the frosty side-walk when a 
couple passed him with rapid steps— a man and a woman arm- 
in-arm, but so closely muffled as to be unrecognizable. 

Little did Gordon Balfour dream, as he summoned the first 
available cab and gave his order to be driven to his own 
house, thajt the figures who had passed within arm’s length of 
him were those of the woman he loved, Adelaide Vernon, 
and her white-faced servant, Rodney Denwood. And whither 
were these two conspirators bound, and what was the object 
of their mysterious errand ? It will be remembered that upon 
leaving the East Side tenement, where Myra Cameron oc- 
cupied lodgings, Mrs, Adelaide Vernon had instructed Rod- 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION. 


31 

ney Denwood, who sat upon the box of her carriage as coach- 
man for that occasion, to come to her that night at eleven 
o’clock for the purpose of “ taking her where he had taken 
with a terribly significant emphasis upon the concluding 
pronoun which had blanched the pale face of the hireling and 
filled his mind with baleful apprehension. 

However, faithful to command, Denwood presented him- 
self at the door of his mistress’ boudoir at the appointed 
hour, and upon knocking cautiously was bidden to en- 
ter. 

Inferring from the familiar tone of the voice that he was 
about to meet Mrs. Vernon the man opened the door, but 
halted with a start of surprise upon the threshold. 

A bent, aged woman was standing before him in the soft 
radiance of the candles, her yellow, wrinkled face and rough 
gray hair contrasting strangely with the black bonnet and 
veil and the coarse blanket shawl that shrouded her figure. 

“ Excuse me,” Denwood stammered, ‘‘ I thought that 
Mrs. Vernon ” 

His utterance was interrupted by a low, joyless laugh. 

“So the disguise is good, is it, Denwood?” laughed the 
young widow. 

“ Good ! ” exclaimed the man in amazement ; “ why, 
madam, your own daughter wouldn’t know you ! ” 

“ Hush ! Rosalind may not be asleep,” was the quick re- 
joinder ; “ and I would not have her know anything of this 
masquerade. Are the servants in bed ? ” 

“ Yes, madam, some time since.” 

“ Then we will start at once.” 

Rodney Denwood drew back a step and trembled visibly. 

“ Are you determined to g6 to that place ? ” he demanded 
huskily. 

“ Determined,” was the firm rejoinder, “ and the sooner we 
start the better.” 

“ But it is no place for the likes of you, Mrs Vernon ? ” 
he urged, 


32 


A COACHMAN^S LOVE; OR, 


‘‘ Nevertheless, it is my will to go. Besides, for to-night I 
am not Mrs. Vernon, but your mother. Do you understand ? 
Your mother P 

The man glanced wonderingly at the lady, and silently con- 
trasted her present appearance and words with the fair queen 
of fashion which he had seen enter her carriage in azure 
cr^pe, blue velvet and diamonds, to be driven to a reception 
given by the British Minister scarcely three nights ago. 

Could this, could this indeed be the same fair, elegant 
woman ? 

Get your hat and coat at once,’' Mrs. Vernon said ; “ we 
are wasting time. I will meet you at the gate of the stable- 
yard.” 

A clock chimed the half hour after eleven as the pair met at 
the appointed place and started off in the direction of Third 
Avenue, where a cab was hailed and the direction given to 
drive to the corner of Avenue A and a certain street. 

Deserting the vehicle and offering his arm to his mistress, 
Denwood led her down through a labyrinth of squalid streets, 
until the black bosom of the East River lay before them 
dotted with luminous specks, where the reflections of the 
Brooklyn pier-lights quivered upon the sluggish tide. Turning 
the corner abruptly, the pair came suddenly upon the figure of 
a man, his head bent upon his breast, hurrying in the direction 
whence they had come. Denwood felt the slender, black- 
gloved hand that rested upon his arm clench violently as the 
person passed them. 

‘‘Did you see that man.^” Adelaide Vernon asked in a 
hoarse whisper. 

“Yes, madam.” 

“ Who did you think it was ? ” 

“ It looked like Mr. Gordon Balfour.” 

“ It was he / ” 

“ Dead silence then ensued until Denwood suddenly paused 
before what was evidently a grocery-aliop of the very lowest 
and humblest description, 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION'. 


33 


The shutters were up, but through two round holes in the 
upper part of the door a dim light was visible. 

“This is the place, madam,'' the man said, bending his lips 
close to his companion's ear. 

Adelaide Vernon shuddered and clung convulsively to the 
arm she held, but as she did not speak Denwood continued, 

“ Will you go in } " 

“Yes," was the faint response. 

“ Do you wish to see /iim ? " he asked. 

“ Great Heaven, no ! " she gasped, thinking he spoke of the 
dead ; “ I wish to see the man you call Vasquez, the Cuban 5 
but you must speak to him and bid him tell you how it was 
done." 

A look of unutterable horror flitted over Denwood's face 
as he mounted the low step and gave four rapid knocks upon 
the door. 

A few moments elapsed and then a shuffling of feet sounded 
within. 

“ Who's there ? croaked a feeble voice. 

“Larry," replied Denwood. 

A bolt was shot back, a chain let down, and the half-open 
door revealed the figure of a withered old man, a wreck of 
dissipation, a mere remnant of manhood. 

He started at sight of the lady and piped, “ WhoVe you 
got with you, Larry ? " 

“ Only my mother, Noll ; we want a drop of something hot 
to keep the cold out." 

“ All right. Step in, quick." 

As Denwood crossed the threshold of the forbidding place 
he felt a dead weight upon his arm, and was almost obliged to 
drag his companion in, so weak with terror was she. 

In the back of the shop, behind a heap of barrels and boxes, 
a group of disreputable-looking men were congregated about 
a table, drinking and playing cards to the sickly light of a 
tallow candle stuck in a bottle. 

Several of them glanced up as the new comers passed them. 


34 


A COACHMAN^S LOVE; OR, 


and levelled sundry vulgar remarks at them, none of which 
Denwood noticed, for leading Mrs. Vernon into a narrow pas- 
sage in the rear he opened a door and ushered her into a 
square room, half sitting-room, half bedroom, which was il- 
lumined by a spluttering oil-lamp. 

“ This is the proprietor’s private apartment,” he explained ; 
“ I will open that dead-light over the bed and you can hear 
what is said in the next room.” 

‘‘ What is the next room ? ” breathed the lady from beneath 
her heavy veil. 

“ It was in that room that ” 

“ Hush ! I understand,” she almost shrieked ; “ go on 
quickly, for I feel as though I were stifling in this disgusting 
den.” 

Leaping upon the bed, Denwood opened the small transom 
in the wall, through which came a damp chill and the odor of 
quicklime. Then he left the room, and Adelaide Vernon 
dropped half-fainting upon the nearest chair. 

Presently Denwood returned and placed a glass of dark, 
steaming liquid upon the table. Listen,” he whispered ; 
we are going in there, with a nod towards the next room. 

Scarcely had he left her when Mrs. Vernon heard a swift, 
cat-like step pass the door of her refuge, and almost imme- 
diately the sound of a voice reached her through the transom. 

She arose and leaned heavily upon the foot of the bed. 

Well, Larry, what do you want ? ” inquired a low voice in 
a decidedly Spanish accent. 

‘‘I want to tell you, Vasquez,” replied Denwood, ‘‘that 
those who paid for the job you did here two nights ago are 
not satisfied.” 

‘‘ What more do they want ? Do they want his heart in a 
silk-lined box ? ” 

“ No, but they want the letters.” 

“ I tell you there were no letters on him ! ” cried the Span- 
iard angrily. 

“ Did you search him ? ” 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION. 


35 


“ No, but old Noll did.’’ 

“ And what did he find ? ” 

‘‘ A silver watch, half a dollar, a handkerchief, and half a 
dozen dead flowers pressed between the leaves of a pocket 
bible.” 

“ Well,” faltered Denwood after a pause ; ‘‘ I don’t know 
what I can do to satisfy them.” 

‘‘Just you tell them from me, Celio Vasquez, that the per- 
son who came here on the night of the 20th of November 
will never trouble them again. Now, good-night ; I’m busy 
with the boys.” 

A moment or two later Adelaide Vernon was aroused from 
her trance of horror by the sudden entrance of Denwood. 

“ Well,” he asked, “ you have heard all ? ” 

“ Yes, all ; but I am not yet convinced that I have been 
fairly dealt with. There is treachery somewhere. The per- 
son who — slept in that next room two nights ago never parted 
with the letters I am in search of. Rodney Denwood, those 
letters must be found.” 

She laid her hand upon his arm and he led her out through 
the passage into the dimly-lighted shop again. 

As they passed the gaming-table behind the boxes, a man 
suddenly started to his feet, a lithe, tall, swarthy fellow, and 
bent a pair of keen, blazing eyes upon them. 

Upon the instant her womanly instinct told Adelaide Ver- 
non that this person was none other than Celio Vasquez, the 
Cuban — the man of all others who held her fate in the hollow 
of his hand. 

She shivered violently, and though she uttered not a word 
she said in her soul, 

“ A dangerous ally ! His tongue must be silenced with 
gold ! ” 

As they reached the outer air of the street a bell across 
the darkly-rolling river tolled one, announcing to all wakeful 
ears that a new day was born — perhaps the most eventful 
day in Adelaide Vernon’s life. 


36 


A COACHMAN^S LOVE; OR, 


CHAPTER VI. 

A CONSUMMATE ACTRESS. 

It was close upon ten o’clock upon the morning succeeding 
the events narrated in the preceding chapter, when Rodney 
Den wood, attired in the livery which accorded with his position 
of footman in the house of the Widow Vernon, entered an 
apartment which was hung with amber satin embroidered 
with sprays of apple-blossoms, and which served as a mom- 
ing-room for his mistress and her beautiful daughter. 

Upon a silver salver he bore a card, wliich he presented in 
silence to Mrs. Vernon where she sat in a deep reclining-chair 
before the open fire, her delicate hands clasped listlessly in 
her lap. 

The lady was marvellously beautiful this morning, her 
blonde hair faultlessly arranged, a slight hectic flush upon 
her cheeks, and her graceful figure swathed in a breakfast 
gown of some flowered Chinese silk caught up here and there 
with knots of black velvet. 

Although knowing her as well as he did, Denwood could 
not conceal an expression of surprise as he noted the innocent 
purity, the nonchalance that rested upon that lovely face. 

Less than twelve hours before she had been in one of the 
lowest dens in New York, and now she sat there in the bright 
sunlight as utterly at peace with all the world as though she 
had been walking with angels along a path strewn with roses. 

‘‘ The stage has lost a shining light,” he thought, as he bent 
respectfully before her and offered the card. 

Adelaide Vernon’s manner was as indifferent as possible 
until her gray eyes rested upon the engraven name ; then she 
started and a flush of annoyance swept over her face. 

“I suppose I must see the gentleman,” she said in a swift 
undertone ; “ show him in. And, Denwood,” she added has- 
tily as the man was about to leave her, “ if Miss Rosalind 
leaves her room with the intention of coming to me, tell her 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION, 


37 


that I am engaged. I will send for her when I am ready to 
see her.’^ 

The servant retired, and Mrs. Vernon sat with her eyes bent 
upon the glowing coals until the door again opened to admit 
the figure of a young man, tall, slender, very fair, with a 
drooping blonde mustache, and a pungent odor of Ylang- 
Ylang about him. 

As he approached her, Adelaide Vernon inclined her head 
slightly, murmuring, 

Is it you, Mr. Pelham ? 

Yes, It is I, Howard Pelham,’’ was the reply, in a low, 
courteous, but somewhat defiant tone. 

When did you return from Europe ? ” 

‘‘ Three days ago.” 

‘‘ Indeed ? We scarcely expected to see you this winter.” 

So it appears, Mrs. Vernon.” 

Something in his voice caused the lady to glance up at the 
speaker, and the look she received made her lower her eyes 
quickly. 

As the gentleman had not bf en asked to seat himself he 
remained standing, leaning his slender figure upon the cor- 
ner of the mantle-piece. 

‘‘ I could not remain longer away,” he said, after a some- 
what awkward pause ; I was not happy.” 

; No ? May I inquire why ? ” 

“ Because there is no joy, no sunshine in my life if sepa- 
rated from Rosalind.” 

A low laugh echoed these words. 

You are inclined to be flattering, Mr. Pelham,” she said; 
“ my daughter would thank you for the compliment were she 
here.” 

Then it was that Howard Pelham lost all command of him- 
self. 

Where is Rosalind ? ” he cried impetuously ; why is she 
not here } Mrs. Vernon, what means this change in your con- 
duct towards me ? ” 


38 


4 COACHMAN'S LOVE; OR, 


There is no change in me^ my dear sir/’ Adelaide Vernon 
said. 

‘‘ You mean, then, that Rosalind has changed towards 
me?” 

If you oblige me to make the confession, I must say that 
she has.” 

“ But we were engaged to each other before I went away. 
Our parting was the parting of plighted lovers.” 

‘‘ One year makes a great change in a girl of Rosalind’s 
age,” replied the lady ; “ a year ago she was a child, to-day she 
is a woman, and knows her own mind.” 

“ Which means that ” 

That she loves, and will shortly be united in marriage, 
with Mr. Lionel Balfour, the nephew and heir of his million- 
aire uncle, the Honorable Gordon Balfour.” 

At this announcement, pronounced in the coolest and 
haughtiest of tones, a dangerous fire leaped into the young 
man’s pale eyes. 

“ So Lionel Balfour is the happy man ! ” he exclaimed in a 
tone of venomous significance; ‘‘ I did not understand it was 
he ; I have been misinformed.” 

I fail to understand you, Mr. Pelham,” the lady said, 
proudly. 

‘‘ Report has it that Miss Rosalind Vernon was desperately 
smitten with the manly charms of one Oscar Cameron, a 
coachman ! ” 

It' was a dead thrust, and it struck home with fearful ef- 
fect. 

Adelaide Vernon grasped the arms of her chair convulsively 
and turned actually livid. 

Mr. Pelham,” she breathed, as soon as she was able to 
regain her breath, ‘^you insult my child and me ! But, thank 
Heaven, the malicious mongers of this scandal are put to rout, 
since Oscar Cameron is dead ! ” 

It was Pelham’s turn to start now, and he did so with a 
gleam of extreme intelligence in his staring eyes, 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION. 39 

‘‘ Dead ! he cried ; then his death must have taken place 
on the night of November 20^ 

The white fingers fastened themselves into the amber satin 
of the chair like clamps of steel, though the beautiful face 
did not alter visibly. 

I am unable to substantiate that fact,’’ she said, with a 
feeble smile. 

‘‘ There is no need that you should,” the yoUng man re^ 
plied with peculiar emphasis ; why should you ? ” 

As she made no reply, only eyed him defiantly, Howard 
Pelham advanced a step, and forgetful of all but his love ex^ 
claimed, Mrs. Vernon, listen to me ! I love your daughter 
as purely, honorably, devotedly as a man can love I I am 
wealthy, as you know ” 

She silenced him with an imperious gesture as she rose 
from her chair. 

“ Enough, Mr. Pelham,” she said, “ it is not alone wealth 
which I seek for my child, but an honored, stainless name as 
well.” 

Howard Pelham recoiled as though he had received a fell- 
ing blow between the eyes. 

‘‘Take care ! ” he hissed ; “you may scorn, spurn, jilt me, 
but beware how you offer an insult to the dead. Believe me, 
Mrs. Vernon, the day is not far distant when you will beg my 
pardon for those infamous words ! ” 

He turned abruptly and left her, closing the door behind 
him. 

It was towards that door that Adelaide Vernon’s eyes had 
wandered nervously several times during the interview, in the 
fear that Rosalind might escape the vigilance of the man 
Denwood, and seek her mother. 

It was not, however, for some minutes after young^ Pelham 
had left the house that the girl stole like a shadow down the 
polished staircase, her morning-robe of exquisite Valenciennes 
lace trailing like a cloud behind her, and silently entered the 
amber-hung chamber. 


40 A COACHMAN’^S LOVE; OR, 

“ Dear mother T’ 

Adelaide Vernon sprang about with a smothered cry, to 
find the lovely white arms about her neck, and the pale, suf- 
fering face looking up into hers with mute entreaty. 

She had been thinking of the missing letters, and Rosa- 
lindas voice startled her. 

“ Well, child, she said, somewhat irritably, what is it ? 

‘‘ Mother, I am better and more myself this morning,” the 
lovely girl murmured. 

“ I am glad to hear it, dear,” with a slight brush of her 
lips upon the pearl-white forehead. 

Can you forgive me once again 't ” Rosalind asked piti- 
fully. 

“ If you have concluded to be sensible, and not persist in 
standing in my light as well as your own.” 

‘‘ I am going to be a dutiful daughter,” was the humble 
reply. 

“ And accept Lionel Balfour as your husband } ” 

If it is your will, mother.” 

The reply was very faint but still audible, and as she heard 
it a gleam of triumph shot into the lady^s face. 

She led Rosalind to the luxurious couch and seated her- 
self beside it for the purpose of manufacturing some words 
of comfort for the distressed girFs delectation, when the door 
of the apartment opened noiselessly and Gordon Balfour ap- 
peared upon the threshold. 

He paused a moment, spellbound by the apparently charm- 
ing picture of maternal love, and said to himself, 

‘‘A curse upon the calumniators of one so pure, so good, 
so noble, and may the vengeance of Heaven light upon me if 
ever I assail her with so much as even a doubt ! ” 

Then he advanced and made his presence known. 

The greetings over, Balfour produced two jewel cases, 
the first of which, containing a necklace of superb brilliants, 
he presented to his affianced, while the second he laid in 
Rosalindas lap with the words, 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION. 


41 


A memento from Lionel, received this morning. The boy 
writes me that he sails from Liverpool on the 30th.’’ 

The souvenir proved to be a bracelet of simple gold, the 
clasp being four clover-leaves, cunningly interwoven, and en- 
crusted with emeralds, upon which dew-drops of diamonds 
trembled. 

Rosalind closed the case with fingers that shook visibly, 
and turned deathly pale. 

You will be glad to welcome Lionel home, will you not, 
Rosalind ? the gentleman asked. 

Certainly,’’ was the faint reply, though the drooping eye- 
lids were not raised. 

‘‘And you will love the boy as I am sure he will love 
you ? ” 

Rosalind raised her eyes and met those of her mother fixed 
upon her in eloquent command. 

“ I shall try to be worthy of your nephew, Mr. Balfour,” 
she faltered. 

Gordon Balfour stooped and raised both the tiny, white 
hands to his lips after his courtly fashion. 

“ Happy Lionel ! ” he said. 

After a few remarks of ordinary importance, the gentleman 
turned once more to Rosalind. “ Will you grant me a few 
moments’ conversation alone with your mother ? ” he asked. 

Only too happy to escape to the solitude of her own cham- 
ber, the girl at once withdrew, Mr. Balfour accompanying her 
to the door, so that he failed to note the look of pale appre- 
hension that settled upon Adelaide Vernon’s face. 

When, however, he returned and took her hands in his, her 
smile had re-appeared and she was as bewitchingly lovely as 
ever. 

“Adelaide,” he said seriously, “look into my eyes. Tell 
me whether you have an enemy in this world bitter enough 
to aim at the destruction of your honor.” 

“ I own no greater enemy than I myself,” she answered 
with a fearless laugh. 


42 


A COACHMAN^S LOVE; OR, 


‘‘ But suppose you were to be accused of infamy, of crime, 
of murder even, what would you say ? ’’ 

The bright innocent smile never for an instant faded from 
her unclouded face. “ I should laugh as I do now, Gordon,’^ 
she said, “ nor could I be more annoyed than I am this 
moment at the idea of your asking me such a question.” 

“Thank you, my love,” he exclaimed fer\^ently ; “ my fool- 
ish doubts are answered. Let me leave you at once while 
this righteous indignation is strong upon me.” 

“ Leave me for whom, for what ? ” she asked. 

“ To set the ablest detective skill that is to be procured 
upon the track of the vile wretches who seek to dim your fair 
fame ! But with your permission I shall return and dine with 
you this evening.” 

When he had left her, Adelaide Vernon sank with a stifled 
gasp upon her chair, while tiny white flecks tinged with blood 
appeared upon her ghastly lips. 

“ My God,” she breathed, “ those letters ! I must have 
them, every one ! Not only my honor but my life depends 
upon them. Denwood shall assist me. I will pay one thou- 
sand dollars for every one of those ten fatal witnesses against 
me ! ” 


CHAPTER VII. 

A SECOND WARNING. 

During the hours which elapsed between his leaving his 
lady-love and his return to her at the dinner-hour that even 
ing, Gordon Balfour secured the services of the most expert 
detective in the city, and together with him visited the ruin- 
ous house down by the East River where the first accusation 
against Adelaide Vernon had been delivered by the lips of 
the veiled presence. 

After infinite inquiry and trouble, the owner of the dilapi- 
dated nest was found and made to acknowledge upon oath that 
his property had not been rented for five 3^ears, and that it 
was eating his head off with the taxes. 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION, 


43 


The house itself was then examined from roof tree to cel- 
lar, the investigation resulting in no discovery whatever. 
The chimney-place in the room where Balfour held his mys- 
terious interview with the unknown was wide enough to admit 
of a body being raised to the roof, but that was the only means 
of egress save the barred window and the door. 

It was already twilight ere the gentleman abandoned his 
search and returned to his residence, disheartened and de- 
cidedly mystified. 

While he dressed himself in faultless evening toilet for his 
dinner with the woman he loved a sudden resolution en- 
tered his disturbed mind. 

“ If Adelaide consents, it shall take place ! What care I 
for what the world may say!” he exclaimed, impetuously; 
and hastening the completion of his dressing he ordered his 
carriage to be driven to the front entrance for him. 

It was about this time, or slightly earlier, that the beautiful 
widow entered her daughter's chamber, arrayed for the events 
of the evening in a sweeping robe of costly black lace over 
satin of the same sable hue, the only^^ornament being the 
necklace of princely diamonds which had that morning been 
presented her. 

She was lovely past description, and gentle little Rosalind, 
gazing at her from where she lay upon a couch, exclaimed in 
genuine admiration, 

“ You were never more lovely than to-night, mother! ” she 
said. 

A flush of conscious pride dyed the haughty face ; her mirror 
had told her the same flattering tale. However, she asked, 

“ Why are you not ready to go down with me, Rosa- 
lind } ” 

'‘Please excuse me this evening,” pleaded the suffering 
girl ; “ I am not well.” 

" And you never will be,” cried the lady hotly, " until you 
give up moaning over that disgraceful love affair of yours. 
Oh, you cannot deceive me, you see ; I read you like a book,” 


44 


A COACHMAN^S LOVE; OEy 


‘‘ Mother, I 

But Adelaide Vernon had swept angrily from the room, 
leaving the poor girl in the loneliness of the gathering 
gloom. 

She clasped her hands in agony and pressed them upon her 
fevered brow. 

Oh, Oscar,” she cried, my true, my only love, is it true 
that you have deserted me for the sake of a paltry sum of 
money, or is it all a base fabrication to stifle the love that is 
in my soul and cries out for you? O Oscar, Oscar, God 
grant that you return to me or send some token that your love 
is not dead before it is too late ! ” 

Below in the illuminated hall Mrs. Vernon paused at the 
foot of the staircase as the figure of Rodney Denwood glided 
towards her from the embrasure of a deep window. 

Any news ? ” the lady demanded in a sibilant whisper. 

‘‘Myra Cameron has left her lodgings,” was the swift 
reply. 

“ Where has she gone ? ” 

“ I cannot ascertain.” 

Adelaide Vernon’s face clouded ominously as she swept a 
pace nearer her ally. 

“Denwood,” she breathed, “Myra Cameron must be 
found. I suspect that girl. I suspect Celio Vasquez, so keep 
your eye on him. Those letters must be found. For every 
one of them, and there are ten, I will give you one thou- 
sand dollars ! ” 

She passed the bowing menial and went into the shaded 
drawing-room to await the arrival of her guest ! 

He came at last, armed with a bouquet of rare exotics for 
his queen. She selected a few of the blood-red blossoms and 
placed them in her bosom, thus putting the finishing touch 
upon a toilette which was absolutely faultless. 

During the elegant repast which was served, Gordon Bal- 
four scarcely removed his adoring gaze from the brilliant 
apparition before him, and when they left the table he led 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION, 4S 

her into the umbrage of the shady conservatory. Seating 
himself beside her, he said, in a tone that ill concealed the 
tempest of emotion that raged within him, 

‘‘ My love, I have a favor to ask of you.’’ 

‘‘ It is granted, without the asking,” was the gracious re- 
joinder. 

‘‘ Ah, but wait until you hear what it is,” he urged. ‘‘ We 
had planned to defer our nuptials until Lionel’s return that 
a double wedding might be solemnized, but I beseech you, 
Adelaide, let our marriage take place at once.” 

She started, and he felt that she trembled where she lay 
upon his arm. 

Why so soon ? ” she faltered. 

“ Because I cannot longer delay the happiness of calling 
you my own,” he breathed. 

There is some other reason, Gordon.” 

He hesitated, and then the integrity which was part and 
parcel of his noble character asserted itself. 

“Yes, my love,” he said, “there is another reason. I 
would marry you, and thus remove you beyond the cavil of 
evil-minded persons.” 

“ And how would the mere act of marriage save me from 
these hidden enemies ? ” she asked. 

“ As my wife,” he exclaimed proudly, “ it must be a cour- 
ageous heart that would dare to assail your honor, and these 
cowards are not courageous ! ” 

After this, though there was some reluctance on the part of 
Mrs. Vernon, Gordon Balfour carried the day with his elo- 
quent pleading, and ere he left her that night it was decided 
that a private marriage should take place at Trinity Church 
on the following Saturday, and it was Thursday then. 

Finding his carriage awaiting his coming at the foot of the 
steps, Gordon Balfour dismissed it, preferring to stroll home 
in the crisp, frosty air, and so started out on foot. 

At the corner of a certain by-street and Fifth Avenue, where 
a long wall, surrounding the court-yard of a splendid resi- 


46 


A COACHMAJSrS LOVE; OR, 


dence renders the sidewalk comparatively secluded, he was 
met by a boy running at full speed, who, as he passed the 
gentleman, threw something which struck his breast and flut- 
tered to the sidewalk* 

Very much inclined to chastise the little rascal had he re- 
mained within reach, Balfour was about to pass on when he 
noticed that the missile was a letter which lay at his feet. 

Mechanically he stooped -and picked it up. A street-lamp 
burned above his head, and by its light he discovered that the 
missive bore his own name, written in bold, dashing chirog- 
raphy. 

So great was his amazement that he broke the seal and 
had scanned the contents of the sheet ere he clearly knew 
what he was about. 

The words that met his astonished eyes were as fol- 
lows : — 

“You have neglected our first warning. The unknown 
will be in Trinity churchyard to-night on the stroke of 
twelve. Neglect this second and last opportunity of hearing 
from the dead at your cost.” 

He crushed the paper in his strong hand and muttered a 
curse. 

“ Some more of this infernal jugglery ! ” he breathed. 
The dead ! What do they mean ? What messages can there 
be for me from the ” 

He paused with a sharp gasp, and instantly the beads of 
icy perspiration started out upon his brow and coursed down 
his pallid face. 

“ The dead ! ” he gasped in horror, “ and they accuse her 
of being a murderess ! ” 

Utterly absorbed in his own gloomy thoughts he walked 
rapidly down the avenue as far as Madison Square, where 
the clock in front of the Fifth Avenue Hotel told him that 
it wanted but twenty minutes to midnight. 

Motioning to one of the waiting cab-drivers, he sprang into 
the vehicle and gave the order to be driven to the Astor 


THE HEIRESS -OF A ^MILLION, 


47 


House with all speed. Arrived there, he paid the ‘fee and 
started down Broadway with hurried, feverish steps to com- 
plete the remainder of the distance. 

Just as the lofty spire of old Trinity came into view against 
' the star-lit sky the clock tolled twelve, slowly, laggingly, as 
though loth to create the fatal moment. 

Scarcely a minute later Gordon Balfour reached the iron 
palings which surround the little, sequestered cemetery lying 
so peacefully in the heart of the city's life and turmoil. 

He glanced sharply through the grating but could discover 
no figure among the tombstones. 

“ The gate is always locked at night," he thought with re- 
lief ; but when he laid his hand upon the lock it yielded, and 
he found himself upon the tesselated pavement before the 
holy edifice. 

Fearless as a lion he passed to the right and entered the 
.aisles among the silent dead. 

He crossed to the farthest limits of the enclosure and 
turned to retrace his steps. 

“ Thank God, it was a hoax 1 " he exclaimed audibly. 

Hark ! Was that an echo of his words ? 

“ It is no hoax ! " 

He turned about with a gasp, and, lo ! out of the shadow 
of a side-portico the dark, veiled figure of the unknown glided 
towards him among the tombs. 

‘‘You did well to heed our warning, Gordon Balfour," said 
the low, melodious voice which he had such reason to re- 
member, “ for I have the proofs of the accusation I made last 
night. Listen, and be convinced ! " 


CHAPTER VIII. 

FRIENDS OF THE DEAD. 

On the evening that Gordon Balfour went to the mansion 
in Fifth Avenue to dine with the woman whom of all others 
he loved with a passion such as only men of his age can feel, 
and at the very hour that he led Adelaide Vernon into the 


A COACIfMAJV^S LOVE; OR, 


conservatory and there besought her to become his wife with- 
out a moment’s unnecessary delay, the figure of a veiled 
woman passed rapidly through the dusk of a certain obscure 
street up town and halted before the door of an unpretentious 
two-story dwelling which bore the stamp of a humble but re- 
spectable habitation. 

Quickly taking a pass-key from her pocket and inserting it 
in the lock, this person let herself into the house and mounted 
the dark stairs with a swift, nervous step. At a door 
upon the first landing she paused an instant, and then turn- 
ing the handle, she entered a square, plainly furnished apart- 
ment, which was lighted by a single oil lamp. 

Before a bare, wooden table, with several letters and doc- 
uments spread out before him, sat Eugene Clifford, the sailor, 
apparently absorbed in intense thought. 

As the woman entered he raised his head, and his good, 
straightforward face assumed a brighter look, which had a 
tinge of hope in it. 

Well, Myra,” he said, “ what news ? ” 

Myra Cameron, for it was she, removed the thick veil 
which had concealed the strange pallor of her countenance, 
and drawing a chair to the table, seated herself opposite the 
man. 

“ Scarcely any news to speak of,” she replied, letting her 
heavy black cloak fall back upon the chair ; “ scarcely any 
news, except ” 

‘‘ Except — what ? ” 

That Gordon Balfour dines with the Widow Vernon to- 
night,” she said, in the low, significant voice which was pe- 
culiar to her. 

“ Is that all ? ” the yOung man asked. 

‘‘ All ; but even so much is of importance to us.” 

Why ? ” 

“ Because it is more than probable that ere they part to- 
night they will name the day for their marriage.” 

What makes you think so ? ” 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION, 


49 


For the reason that indifferent as Gordon Balfour wishes 
to appear to our warning, he is but a man. after all, and since 
he loves as madly as he does, he will try to shield the object 
of that fatal love by making her his wife/’ 

There was a slight pause, and then Clifford said : 

You think perhaps that we ought to strike the blow be- 
fore this wedding takes place ? ” 

Myra Cameron uttered a low, joyless laugh. 

By no means,'’ she replied ; the higher the bird mounts 
the greater the fall when at last the shaft pierces its bosom. 
As Mrs. Gordon Balfour she will be a more deplorable wreck 
than as simply the Widow Vernon.” 

The low, venomous words sent an involuntary shudder 
over the man who sat, spell-bound with horror, listening to 
them. Your revenge is fearful, Myra,” he faltered. 

Not more fearful than it is righteous,” was the icy reply. 

You seek utter annihilation to your enemy.” 

‘‘ On the contrary, I seek rest for my brother’s soul, which 
cries to me from beyond the grave for vengeance.” 

^‘Then you are convinced beyond the possibility of a 
doubt that Oscar is dead ? ” 

She raised her great, black eyes, in the depths of which 
volcanic fires seemed to burn, and her compressed lips grew 
pallid as she answered, almost fiercely, ‘‘ If you are inclined 
to falter by the way, return to your home, and I will go on 
alone ! ” 

He bowed his head before the stinging rebuke, and they 
sat there in silence, counting the minutes, until a low, cau- 
tious rap sounded upon the door. Both the friends rose sim- 
ultaneously, but it was Myra Cameron who spoke. 

‘‘/will go,” she said; “perhaps it may not be the one we 
are expecting.” 

But it was evident that they were not to be doomed to 
disappointment since, upon opening the door, the figure of 
a tall, slim man, wrapped in an Ulster coat from head to foot, 


A COACHMAN^S LOVE; OR, 


5<5 

and bringing with him the pungent fragrance of Ylang-Ylang, 
strode into the room with perfect assurance. 

Upon removing the slouched hat and lowering his capa- 
cious collar, the handsome though somewhat delicate features 
of Howard Pelham was revealed in the dim lamp-light. 

“ I am the bearer of news worth knowing,’’ he exclaimed, 
ere Myra or her friend could utter a word. 

The two sad faces brightened as they gathered about the 
man whom they had admitted to their sacred league. 

‘‘ I will not keep you in suspense,” continued Howard Pel- 
ham, ‘‘ but inform you at once, that the marriage of Gordon 
Balfour and Adelaide Vernon is to be solemnized at Trinity 
Church, day after to-morrow morning at twelve o’clock ! ” 

His auditors started in amazement, but the young gentle- 
man silenced all exclamations by adding quickly. 

Therefore it seems to me that the friends of the dead will 
have quite as much as they can do to perfect their plans be- 
fore that time.” 

They forthwith seated themselves about the table, and re- 
mained in earnest consultation for upwards of an hour, at the 
end of which time Howard Pelham hastily departed, and 
just as the hands of the clock pointed to the half hour after 
eleven, Myra Cameron and Clifford, passing silently out of 
the house, walked rapidly through the street in the direction 
of Sixth Avenue ; and it was not more than thirty minutes 
later, that Gordon Balfour found himself face to face with the 
veiled presence among the tombs in Trinity churchyard. 

In spite of the nameless terror which seized upon him, as 
he found himself confronted so suddenly by the unknown, and, 
too, just as he had begun to hope that he had been made 
the victim of a hoax, the” gentleman assumed a defiant air 
and waited to be accosted, 

‘‘ You have seen fit to neglect my first warning,” the pres- 
ence said in its peculiarly melodious tone. 

And what if I have ? ” was the haughty demand. 

• I would like to know your reason.” 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION. 


SI 

‘‘ My reason is, that I decline to listen to the jealous rav- 
ings of a mad creature who has not the courage to show her 
face and boldly declare her vile accusations against the no- 
blest and purest being that breathes the breath of life ! 

‘‘But I tell you, that Adelaide Vernon is a murder- 
ess ! 

“ And I tell you that you lie 1 he cried madly, at the same 
time making a dash forward to snatch that impenetrable veil 
away ; and he might have carried his determination into effect 
had not his feet become entangled among the closely packed 
tomb-stones, which brought him to a sudden halt. 

The sky had become overcast with clouds, and the only^ 
light in the lonely place was shed by a gas-lamp in the distant 
street, which shimmered in with ghostly uncertainty. 

“ Another step and I am gone ! ” warned the dark figure, 
“Gordon Balfour, listen to the voice of a friend, and be 
warned before it is too late.” 

“ Speak, then 1 ” cried the distracted man ; “what have you 
to say ? ” 

“ That the hands of the woman you love may not actually 
be stained with blood ; I do not say that she struck the fatal 
blow, but it was she who planned the deed, and paid for it 
with her own money.” 

“ Enough of this accursed juggling ! ” he fairly shrieked, 
an ominous throbbing beating at his temples, and almost ar- 
resting his breath ; “ for what reason could Adelaide Vernon 
commit crime ? ” 

“ In order to remove an impediment from her path,” 

“ What impediment ? ” 

“ A man.” 

“ Well, speak out, I tell you ! What man ? ” 

“ Her coachman.” 

“ Vile slanderer ! May Heaven crush you for your cow- 
ardly words ! I will hear no more ! ” 

“ Stay ! You would have proof 'I ” 

He started bagk, trembling violently. 


52 


A COACHMAN^S LOVE; OR, 


If there is any proof — ^yes/^ he replied, a baleful huski- 
ness in his voice. 

Then, when next you meet the woman you would make 
your honored wife, ask her where Oscar Cameron is now I 
Tell her that the letters which she has offered ten thousand 
dollars to obtain are in safe keeping, and that they will be re- 
turned to her when least she expects them. Tell her that — — 

‘<My God, my GodT’ 

^‘Ah! The voice of your conscience begins to assert it- 
self, does it ? You will be a wise man if you ’’ 

But the concluding words were lost upon the agonized 
listener. 

With a stifled cry, he threw up his arms and fell with a dull 
crash among the graves, insensible. 

For an instant the veiled presence paused, as though 
stricken with surprise, and perhaps remorse, and then vanished 
as mysteriously as it had come. 


CHAPTER IX. 

MARRIED IN BLACK. 

Friday had passed upon the wings of the wind and Satur- 
day had dawned, that day ot all others to which Adelaide 
Vernon had looked forward with eager, almost insane long- 
ing as the crowning point of her fondest wishes and ambition. 

Before night fell, she told herself, she should be Gordon 
Balfour’s wife, and so removed in a great measure beyond 
the omnipresent dangers which assailed her. They would go 
to Europe and live, perhaps ; at all events, wherever she might 
be, she would be protected by one of the most honored names 
in the broad land. 

Since her parting with Gordon Balfour late on Thursday 
evening she had not again seen him ; but his absence gave 
her no anxiety ; he was busily occupied, and certainly she 
could wait until he came to her on their wedding morn. 

It was with no little hesitation and even dread that she in- 
formed Rosalind of her intention of being married before the 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION. 


53 


close of the week ; but to her surprise the girl accepted the 
news in silence, and now as the pair sat alone in the amber- 
satin boudoir.^ with the gray light of the stormy November 
morning looking in upon them in their wedding garments, 
they presented a strange, joyless picture. 

What is the matter with you this morning, Rosalind ? ’’ 
inquired Mrs. Vernon pettishly, as she raised a delicate 
Sevres cup, filled with fragrant chocolate, to her lips. 

The girl raised her heavy eyes as she replied, 

I do not know, mother ; perhaps I dread the separation 
from you.^^ 

‘‘Nonsense, child. It is only for a couple of weeks at 
most that we shall travel ; then we shall return to town to wel- 
come Lionel, to be present at your wedding, and then per- 
haps we may all go abroad together.’^ 

Rosalind turned very pale, and toyed nervously with the 
rich lace that adorned the dainty morning costume of mingled 
pink and russet silk which she was to wear to church. 

Adelaide Vernon regarded the drooped head almost sternly. 

“ You are not going to mind being left in the house while 
we are gone, I hope,^’ she said ; “ you know you may invite 
any of your young friends to come and keep you com- 
pany.^’ 

“ I prefer to be alone,’^ was the low reply. 

“ As you please, my dear.’’ 

A silence fell upon them, broken only by the ceaseless 
ticking of the jewelled clock upon the mantle, and contin- 
ued until a sharp ring at the door-bell sounded throughout 
the house. 

Involuntarily the eyes of the bride-elect sought the time- 
piece ; the tiny gold hands pointed to the half hour after ten, 
and she had not expected to be disturbed until eleven o’clock 
at least. 

The entrance of Rodney Denwood, attired in a suit of 
new livery, with a bouquet of roses in his breast, increased 
the inquietude that had suddenly taken possession of her, 


54 


A COACHMAN^ S LOVE; OR, 


What is it ? she demanded, ere the man could utter a 
syllable. 

Mr Balfour is below ana wishes to see you at once,’^ he 
said. 

Adelaide Vernon was livid in an instant, and as she strug- 
gled to her feet, she murmured strangely, 

‘‘ What has brought him here at this hour ? ’’ 

Finding her servant’s eyes fixed upon her with an inquisi- 
tive stare, she hastened to add with an assumption of indif- 
ference, 

Rosalind, remain here ; I will return in a moment.” 

With limbs that were scarcely able to support her weight, 
so violently did they tremble with a nameless apprehension, 
Adelaide Vernon descended the polished stairs, the rich black 
velvet of her wedding-dress trailing silently behind her. 

As she entered the drawing-room Gordon Balfour came 
rapidly towards her and took her white-gloved hands in his 
he had not seated himself since his arrival, but had been 
restlessly pacing up and down the sumptuous apartment like 
a caged animal. 

So disturbed was she that she did not notice how pale and 
haggard he was, nor what a gleam of nervous dread there 
was in his usually calm and defiant eyes. 

The day preceding his wedding-day had been a term of un- 
utterable torture to the wretched man. 

With that awful interview with the unknown in Trinity 
churchyard still preying upon his mind, he had suffered 
much physical pain from the effects of his swoon and fall 
upon the frozen earth. 

It had chanced that upon recovering consciousness he had 
found the figure of a strange man bending over him in the dim 
light, a man with an open, kindly countenance and attired in 
a sort of half-sailor costume. 

He remembered that this person had spoken kindly to him, 
raised him to his feet, and assisted him to a cab which stood 
in waiting at the gateway of Trinity Church. 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION. 


55 


Though the identity of the man remained a mystery to Gor- 
don Balfour, the reader will recognize in this good Samari- 
tan none other than Eugene Clifford. 

Therefore, in consequence of the events of the preceding 
evening, Mr. Balfour was unable to visit the house in Fifth 
Avenue until Saturday morning, and then he came absolutely 
trembling with the desperate proposition he had to make. 

‘‘Adelaide,” he said abruptly; “why should we delay our 
wedding a moment longer than is necessary } ” 

She raised her beautiful eyes to his face in fearless ques- 
tioning. 

“ I do not understand you, Gordon,” she said ; “ are we not 
to be united this very morning ? Shall we not be man and 
wife in less than two hours ? ” 

“ Yes, but even so I dread this delay. Adelaide, I must 
speak out,” he cried* “ your secret enemies have been tor- 
turing me again with their vile insinuations, and I fear ” 

“ What do you fear ? ” she interrupted breathlessly. 

“ That they, knowing the hour at which our wedding is to 
take place, will be present and offer some — some impedi- 
ment.” 

“ What do you propose to do then ? ” she asked. 

“ Go to church at once I My carriage is waiting without ; I 
have already notified the clergyman to be ready at a moment^s 
warning to perform the ceremony. We can take Rosalind 
and some one else with us as witnesses 1 ” 

Without a word Adelaide Vernon turned and almost flew 
up the stairs. A minute later she returned with poor Rosa- 
lind, more pallid than ever, and Rodney Denwood, with a 
significant leer upon his habitually colorless face. 

In a dead, ominous silence the three entered the carriage, 
the footman taking his place upon the box beside the coach- 
man. 

During the drive down Broadway it was arranged that after 
the ceremony Denwood should remain at the church to in- 
form the few intimate friends who had been bidden to the 


56 


A COACHMAN^S LOVE; OR, 


wedding that there had been some unhappy mistake in regard 
to the appointed hour, and to beg them in the names of his 
master and mistress to-drive at once to the bride's residence 
to partake of the wedding-breakfast. 

The quarter after eleven had just tolled dismally from the 
fog-clogged tower and a few drops of rain had begun to fall 
as the carriage drew up in front of Trinity. 

In a flash Denwood was at the door and had assisted his 
future master to alight ; then came Rosalind, and finally the 
bride, in her black velvet robe, with ghastly white roses upon 
her bosom and in the costly Spanish mantilla which covered 
her blonde hair. 

A sudden gust of wind powdered the sombre velvet with 
myriad rain-drops that seemed to whisper as they fell, 

“ Luckless is the bride that the rain rains on ! " 

It was dark and cheerless within the holy edifice, and a sin- 
gle gas-jet gleamed with an uncanny light beside the altar. 

Obedient to a whispered command, Denwood followed the 
party up the aisle and took his place as one of the witnesses. 

‘‘ Which is the bride } " the clergyman inquired with par- 
donable uncertainty, and when Adelaide Vernon stepped for- 
ward to the rail he shuddered involuntarily ; though by no 
means a superstitious man, this was the first woman he had 
made a wife in black. 

However, the solemn ceremony was soon rehearsed, and at 
last came the weighty charge, 

‘‘Whom God hath joined together, let no man put asun- 
der!" . 

They waited not for congratulations, but as man and wife, 
Gordon and Adelaide Balfour hastened out of the church into 
the increasing storm. 

At the carriage-door stood Howard Pelham. Mrs. Balfour 
blanched as she met his smiling eyes, and she clung to her 
husband’s arm as the young gentleman murmured his con- 
gratulations. 

While this scene was being enacted^ a woman in deepest 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION 


57 


mourning and closely veiled pressed her way out of the crowd 
of idlers upon the sidewalk and came close to Rosalindas side. 

Scarcely knowing what was happening to her, the girl felt 
a card pressed into her hand and upon looking at it her eyes 
rested upon these mysterious words : — 

‘‘When summoned, come at once tome, for the sake of 
your dead love, and fear nothing/’ 

She turned hastily to accost the bearer of this singular mis- 
sive, but she had vanished. 

The wedding-breakfast at the house in Fifth Avenue proved 
to be a term of “ durance vile ” for the host and hostess, 
and scarcely had the clock struck three when Adelaide Bal- 
four fled up to her chamber to be arrayed in the elegant 
toilet which had been prepared for her journey. 

An hour later the house was deserted, and poor Rosalind 
crept shudderingly up the staircase and threw herself in the 
stormy twilight upon the hearth-rug before the fire in her 
own chamber. 

Perhaps she fell asleep, worn out with fatigue and misery, 
for when she awoke it was quite dark, but for the fire-light, 
and there was some one knocking at her door. 

She started up and bid the intruder enter. It was Rodney 
Denwood, and upon a salver he bore two missives — one, a 
cable-message from Europe ; the other, a sealed envelope 
addressed in a strange hand. 

With a shudder Rosalind opened the telegram first. 

It contained these words : — 

“ To Miss Rosalind Vernon : ' 

“ Set sail to-day. With God’s will I shall be with you in 
ten days. Lionel Balfour.” 

She crushed the sheet in her-trembling hand and threw it 
upon the glowing coals. 

Then she broke the black seal of the strange envelope 
and drew forth — what ? 

The first of the ten letters which she had writte7i to Oscar 
Cameron I 


A COACHMAN’S LOVE ; OR, 


5^ 


CHAPTER X. 

THE medusa's head. 

It was brilliant, frosty December weather, and the height 
of the fashionable season in Washington, whither Gordon 
Balfour had taken his lovely bride to visit a certain senator 
high in the honored estimation of his country. 

Eight days of the honeymoon had flown away and but two 
remained of their leave of absence, since the steamer which 
was bearing Lionel Balfour, the husband-elect of Rosalind 
Vernon, across the wintry ocean was due on Wednesday, 
and it was already the midnight of Monday. 

To say that the newly-wedded pair were happy would but 
poorly express the rapturous delight they experienced in 
each other’s company; it really seemed as though when they 
turned their backs upon New York all their troubles, appre- 
hensions, and fears evaporated in thin air, and they became 
in consequence as careless, light-hearted and debonnair as 
two children. 

Wherever they went, and their journey proved a perfect 
triumphal progress on account of the lavish attentions that 
were bestowed upon them, Mrs. Balfour was the cynosure 
of all eyes, the nucleus of admiring observation. 

And Adelaide Balfour received this accumulation of honor 
with a simple grace and dignity which charmed all beholders. 

A vastly proud man was Gordon Balfour as he escorted 
his wife, absolutely ablaze with diamonds and sapphires, to 
a grand reception at the residence of the British ambassador 
on this particular Monday evening, and it was already past 
midnight ere they entered their carriage to be driven back 
to the house of the senator where they were staying. 

‘‘ I am absolutely jealous.of the attentions which are be- 
stowed upon you, Adelaide,” the gentleman murmured, as he 
gazed down upon the beautiful face framed in its blonde 
hair and frosting of diamonds where it rested upon his 
shoulder. 

Adelaide Balfour raised her violet eyes with that coquetry 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLIOH. 59 

which had been her deadliest weapon for more than half-a- 
score of years. 

“I can return the compliment, Gordon,” she answered 
him, “ I had no idea how many poor women I was driving 
to the verge of desperation when I married you.” 

“ Flatterer ! ” he exclaimed passionately ; ‘‘ I should be 
angry with you if you did not bestow your flattery with such 
consummate charm.” 

They were looking into each other’s faces, which were 
dimly lighted by the carriage-lamps, and they remained thus 
for several minutes, while the splendid horses drew them at 
a swift pace through the now dark and deserted streets. 

Suddenly Gordon Balfour tightened his embrace upon the 
graceful waist, and pressing his lips upon the fair brow in a 
fond kiss, murmured. 

My darling, how I wish those wicked wretches who tried 
so hard to separate us could see us now 1 They would gnash 
their teeth for very jealousy.” 

For a few moments the lady maintained perfect silence, 
though her sunny eyes never lost their bewitching smile. 

“ That wish is a little bit vindictive, is it not, dear ? ” she 
asked at last ; “ of course I do not know how serious their 
accusations against me were, but it is not like your noble 
self to wish any one annoyance. Gordon, why won’t you 
tell me what they said of me ? ” 

No, no,” he replied hastily ; “ why should we mar our 
perfect happiness by recalling the slander ! ” 

Ah, but you once said enough to pique my curiosity,’’ 
she urged, “ and you know you should have no secrets from 
one who is now your wife.” 

‘‘ Well,” the gentleman hesitated, “ they^accused you of a 
fearful crime.” 

“ What crime, pray ? ” 

“Murder!” 

“ Indeed ? ” 

“ Was it not infamous ? ” 


6o 


A COACHMAN^S LOVE ; OR, 


Ridiculous, according to my thinking.” 

She was smiling still, and the sea-shell tint had not desert- 
'd her rounded cheek. 

“ Did they also graciously inform you who my unhappy 
victim was ? ” she asked, glancing up at him with comic 
pathos. 

coachman who was once in your employ.” 

How perfectly absurd ! Upon which unhappy Jehu am I 
accused of visiting my cannibal propensities ? ” 

Upon one whom I have often seen ; a handsome fellow, 
with a distinguished air far above his station.” 

“ And what do they affirm as my motive for this sanguinary 
deed ? ” 

‘‘They did not go so far as that,” replied Balfour, relieved 
by the tone of innocent bravado in which she questioned 
him \ “ they merely charged me, if ever the opportunity of* 
fered, to ask you what became of Oscar Cameron, and to tell 
you that the letters which you have offered ten thousand dol- 
lars to obtain are in safe keeping, and will be returned to you 
when least you expect them.” 

Though he had ceased speaking the classic face still re- 
mained upturned to his in the faint light that shone in 
through the carriage-windows, but with a violent start he be- 
came conscious that the weight in his arms had grown heavier 
and utterly impassive. 

He glanced down, and discovered to his horror that his 
wife lay there in a dead swoon. “Great God!” he ex- 
claimed wildly, “ can she be guilty after all 1 ” 

But his very next act proved that his faith in the woman he 
loved was unshaken, for with his clenched hand he shivered 
one of the frosted panes of glass and called wildly to the 
coachman, “ Drive for your life ! Mrs. Balfour is ill ! Ten 
dollars to you if you reach home in as many min- 
utes!” 

Then he caught the inanimate form to his breast. 

“ Adelaide, forgive me,” he murmured in contrition ; “ I 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION. 


6i 


have pained and shocked you with my horrid story ! Forgive 
me for my folly ! ” 

Upon the following morning the following telegram was 
received by Rosalind Vernon in New York. 

‘‘ Your mother is ill. Shall arrive in town to-night. Re- 
ceive us at my house in Gramercy Park. 

“ G. Balfour.” 

Poor Rosalind met this piece of intelligence and the sum- 
mons to leave her old home in the lifeless, hope-less manner 
in which she had accepted everything since life and hope 
seemed to have deserted her. 

For those eight weary, endless days she had not once left 
the house in Fifth Avenue, but had sat there alone in her 
chamber, refusing all company, pining, waiting for she 
scarcely knew what. 

Of the mysterious missive which had been handed her by 
the veiled woman outsidb of Trinity Church upon her mother’s 
wedding-day the girl had thought but little, believing it 
to be some cruel hoax invented by a jealous mind. 

Of her first letter to Oscar Cameron, however, and of the 
strange, uncanny way in which it was returned to her, she 
thought night and day. 

A thousand times at least had she examined the envelope, 
the post-mark, and the seal, in the vain hope of finding some 
clue to the sender. 

It was a simple white envelope, the post-mark bore the 
stamp of New York City, and the seal, of black wax, had been 
merely impressed with a checkered die. 

The chirography of the address was plain and bold, but 
utterly foreign to her. 

Who, then, had returned the letter to her, and what did its 
advent portend? 

When her step-father’s telegram had arrived, she arose 
coldly, impassively, and dressed herself for the street ; she 
pext ordered the carriage, and then was driven to the pala- 


62 


A COACHMAN'S LOV£ ; ORy 


tial mansion in Gramercy Park which was henceforth to be 
her home. 

She took nothing with her but the plain gold seal ring 
which Oscar Cameron had given her months ago in exchange 
for an antique onyx ring of her own, which bore the head of 
the gorgon Medusa engraved upon the stone, and her letter 
to her lover. 

The remainder of her valuables and belongings might 
come as best they could ; she had lost all interest in them, 
and cared not. 

It was late that evening when a ring at the door-bell brought 
Rosalind into the spacious, vaulted hall to receive Mr. and 
Mrs. Balfour. 

The girPs quick eye detected that it was mental, not bod- 
ily illness, from which her mother was suffering. 

There was a strained expression upon her pallid face, deep 
lines beneath her eyes, and a nervous twitching about her 
colorless lips. 

Adelaide Balfour was effusive in her reception of her 
daughter and wept hysterically as she embraced her, while 
Balfour himself seemed powerless to express his gratitude 
and relief at having reached home in safety. 

That night Rosalind watched by her mother’s bedside, 
though not a single word was exchanged between them, in 
spite of their sleeplessness and the curious starts they gave 
as the hours were tolled off by the time-piece upon the mantle. 

An eerie presage of approaching danger, a foreshadowing 
of some imminent peril, seemed to oppress them both, yet 
they did not impart their fears, conscious as they were that 
they shared the same baleful influence. 

Towards morning Adelaide Balfour fell into a troubled 
sleep, and remained in it long after Rosalind descended to 
breakfast with her step-father. 

For a morning greeting Gordon Balfour placed a copy of 
the day’s Herald in the girl’s hand, pointing as he did so to 
an item among the shipping-news which reported the arrival 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION. 


65 


of the Scotia from Liverpool. “ Lionel may be with us at 
any moment,” he exclaimed joyfully ; “ now what do you say 
to that, my sweet Rosalind ? ” 

But Rosalind said not a word ; she merely bowed her head 
to conceal the sudden pallor that overspread her counte- 
nance, and the gentleman turned away with a proud smile 
that he might not betray her, as he vainly fancied, modest 
blushes. 

And it was indeed a blush that he found upon Rosalind’s 
face as they seated themselves at table, since lying upon her 
plate was a note addressed to “ Miss Rosalind Vernon,” a 
note which sent an electric thrill over her entire body and 
the blood to her pallid cheeks. 

Ah, how long did that repast seem, and how desperately 
did she attempt to return coherent answers to the remarks 
which were addressed to her by Mr. Balfour ! 

At last, however, she was free to fly to her room and ex- 
amine the missive which had excited her so strangely. 

With trembling hands she rent the envelope and read the^ 
following words : 

“ We have bidden you to come to us when we notified youi 
to do so. Come at once without an hour’s delay. If you 
doubt the honesty of our motives, look at the seal upon the. 
envelope.” 

With a gasp, Rosalind picked up the wrapper where it lay 
at her feet, and, lo ! the Medusa's head / 

The stamp of the ring which she had given to Oscar Cam- 
eron ! 

Breathlessly she caught up her outer garments and fled 
down the stairs to the street-door. 

Fortunately no one impeded her progress, and a moment 
later she was flying along the sidewalk in the direction of 
the street and number which had been subjoined to the 
anonymous note. 

It was past noon ere she returned to Gramercy Park^ and 


64 


A COACHMAN'S LOVE ; OR, 


as Rodney Denwood opened the door for her in answer to 
her summons he said with a peculiar leer, 

‘‘ Mr. Lionel Balfour has arrived, Miss Rosalind/’ 

She did not heed the man’s, words nor the sound of voices 
that met her ear through the half-opened door of the library, 
but flew up to her room, locking herself in. 

When safe from intrusion, she threw herself upon her 
knees and raised her clasped hands to heaven. 

‘‘ Merciful God ! ” she moaned piteously ; ‘‘ they have told 
me that Oscar is dead! Now what shall I do? My doom 
stares me in the face and I know not how to ” 

The frantic words died upon her lips, and her eyes became 
riveted upon something in the shape of a letter which floated 
from the toilet-table in a draught of air, caused by a window 
which had been left open in the room, and fell upon the car- 
pet. 

With a stifled cry she sprang towards it and picked it up. 

It was the same envelope, the same postmark, the same 
black seal I 

She tore it open and there — there lay the second of her 
missing letters to Oscar Cameron, and nestling in its folds a 
tiny bunch of fresh, fragrant violets, her favorite flowers. 

She cast the letter and leaves into the air in her wild 
ecstasy, 

‘‘Oscar is not dead, 7iot dead.C^ she cried; “now I defy 
them to force me to marry a man I can never love ! ” 

Half an hour later Rosalind Vernon calmly descended the 
staircase to meet Lionel Balfour — and her fate. 


CHAPTER XL 

THE MASKED BALL. 

’ From the very first glance, Lionel Balfour was stricken 
with a mad, hopeless admiration for his uncle’s wife. 

One entire week passed and he had failed to murmur one 
word of love in the ear of the one who was destined to be 
his wife. Rosalind noticed the polite indifference with which 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION. 65 

the young man treated her, and her suffering heart was filled 
with joy and satisfaction. 

He does not love me ; he will never ask me to be his 
wife,’^ she told herself over and over again. 

It was not that Adelaide Vernon had deliberately set her- 
self to work to charm and conquer the noble-hearted fellow ; 
she had had conquest enough and was satisfied ; her object 
solely was to render that conquest, doubly sure by making the 
nephew of the man whose honored name she bore a firm 
ally in case she ever required his valuable support ; therefore 
she exerted all her choicest blandishments, and so fascinated 
Lionel that he fell an easy victim to her wiles. 

Little did she dream, as she noted the gaze of admiration 
in the honest gray eyes and the marked preference which he 
exhibited for her society, that she was fatally overreaching 
herself, and thus planning her own downfall, 

Lionel Balfour was as honorable as he was handsome, in 
fact the exact prototype of his uncle, whom he worshipped as 
the deity of all his happiness and success in life ; young, 
impulsive, yet keenly alive to the distinction between right 
and wrong, Lionel Balfour came to his senses about a week 
after his return from Europe to find himself hopelessly in 
love with his uncle’s beautiful wife. , 

He was in despair at his fatal discovery, the more so, as 
he found it utterly impossible for him to regard Rosalind in 
other than the light of a sweet and lovely girl, whom he could 
look upon coolly and with no passionate thrill in his heart. 

It was not in the nature of things that these two young 
beings should be so constantly, and with such evident inten- 
tion, thrown together without sooner or later coming to some 
understanding. 

The occasion presented itself ere a week had passed since 
they became acquainted. 

It was in the fragrant depths of the great conservatory that 
opened out of the dining-room of the house in Gramercy 
Park that they met by chance one morning. 


66 


A COACHMAN'S LOVE ; OR, 


They were alone, with the sunshine streaming in through 
the frosted glass, and the air about them resonant with the 
singing of rare plumaged birds in their gilded cages. 

Rosalind was seated in her favorite nook reading, her only 
solace and comfort in these days of varying hope and uncer- 
tainty. Lionel approached and leaned over the back of her 
chair. 

“ Miss Rosalind,'’ he said in his pleasant, melodious voice, 
‘‘ I have been especially imported from Europe to make love 
to you.” 

The girl raised her flower-like face with a smile. 

And you regret that you are unable to do so,” she 
said. 

“Yes.” 

“ That’s frank ! ” 

“ Is it not better to be outspoken than to suffer a lifetime 
for the senseless deception of an hour 1 I freely confess 
that I have not a free heart to offer you, and I speak the 
more confidently since I have seen from the first that you 
simply regard me with ” ^ 

“ Respect, Mr. Balfour,” she put in ; “ with suchurespect 
as I have never felt for living man.” 

A flush mounted to his forehead as he acknowledged the 
delicate compliment. 

“Thank you,” he said; “ I shall do all in my power to be 
worthy of your esteem and good opinion. But of course you 
know it is expected of us that we shall be ardent lovers; 
how, then, are we to consider ourselves ” 

“ As friends, I hope ; the very best of friends.” 

“ Here is my hand upon it.” 

“And mine.” 

“ So, then, the compact is sealed.” 

“ Yes, it is better so.” 

She had arisen and given him her small white hand to 
press in his firm grasp ; and thus it was that they came to 
thoroughly understand each other to the utter rout and confu- 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION, 67 

sion of the plotters who had built their hopes upon quite 
another turn in affairs. 

From that moment Rosalind became more determined and 
self-possessed. 

Though her mysterious errand on the morning of Lionebs' 
arrival had been to answer a summons from Myra Cameron 
and to be told of Oscar’s death, hope had not died within 
her ; those two letters which had been so strangely returned 
to her kept the fires alight, and thus held the despair, which 
had at first assailed her, at bay. 

As for Lionel Balfour, he grew more and more desperate ; 
he fully understood the baleful risk he ran in allowing himself 
to be lulled by the siren voice of Adelaide Balfour, and saw 
distinctly the rock upon which he was fated to be dashed if 
he continued to float onward in that disastrous influence. 

But what was he to do ? How tear himself away from the 
danger which menaced ? 

He would ask himself this question a hundred times each 
day, and as often recognize his entire inability to answer 
it. 

God help me ! ’’ he would cry in his solitude ; how can 
I so wrong the man who has been more than father to me by 
even a thought ! I am not worthy to look him in the face, to 
touch his hand ; I am undeserving the name of a man and a 
gentleman ! ” 

Still the fatal spell continued, the toils of the enchantress 
fell thicker about her helpless victim, and in the midst of it 
all the invitations to a grand masked ball at Gramercy Park 
were issued. 

It was the height of an unusually brilliant season in New 
York, and Mr. and Mrs. Balfour found it out of the question 
longer to absent themselves from the fashionable round of 
gayety. 

Therefore the bal masque was thought of as a sop to the 
social Cerberus, and acceptances began to pour in upon all 
sides. 


68 


A COACHMAN^S LOVE ; OR, 


The affair promised to be the event of the winter, and prepa- 
rations were made at the Balfour mansion upon a scale of 
unparalleled magnificence. 

The spacious house was to be thrown open from the en- 
trance-hall to the roof ; rooms were to be set apart for card- 
playing and chess ; supper was to be served in the conserva- 
tory in the warm radiance of gas-jets concealed in the cups 
of variegated flowers, while the immense drawing-rooms and 
dining-room were to be cleared for dancing. 

The auspicious night at last arrived, crisp and brilliant as 
January frost and moonlight could make it, and as the gro- 
tesquely attired occupants of the carriages alighted upon the 
crimson cloth that was laid down beneath the capacious awn- 
ing at the entrance, they were received by Rodney Denwood 
and a bevy of footmen in livery, who carefully examined the 
cards they presented and then led them within, where they 
paid their respects to the host of the evening. 

In the centre of the glittering drawing-room, just beneath 
the glare of the great crystal chandelier stood, Gordon Bal- 
four in simple evening toilet, and by his side his beautiful 
wife, her graceful figure attired in a marvellous brocade of 
white Venetian velvet, her lovely neck and arms ablaze with 
priceless diamonds, while a coronet of the same precious gems 
supported the wealth of her yellow hair. 

This pair were the only persons unmasked in all that mot- 
ley concourse. 

A little to the rear of the host and hostess stood Lionel 
Balfour and Rosalind Vernon ; the former disguised in a 
plain black domino and mask, and the latter in spotless 
white. 

They stood close to each other, Rosalind’s downcast gaze 
bent upon her fan, while Lionel’s eyes, burning like fiery ru- 
bies through the opening in his mask, were riveted upon the 
vision of beauty at his uncle’s side. 

Slowly the gorgeous pageant filed through the-- brilliant • 
rooms, Gordon Balfour bowins: in his courtly way, and his . 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION^ 69 

wife smiling her sweetest at the murmured compliments that 
fell from unrecognized lips. 

At last, and close upon midnight, there came a break in 
the procession that had flowed ceaselessly in for more than 
two hours, and husband and wife turned to each other with a 
sigh of relief, when, at the moment, a slim athletic figure 
glided into the room and bowed low. 

This figure was attired in the diabolical red, and tinsel, 
and feathers of the arch-fiend, Mephistopheles, and so utterly 
Satanic was the costume and the gleam of the bright eyes 
through the crimson mask that Adelaide Balfour uttered a low 
cry of affright and clung to her husband^s arm for support. 

Even Rosalind drew nearer her companion and breathed 
in his ear, 

I wish I might escape from all this. I feel oppressed 
and wretched, just as though something dreadful were going 
to happen ! ’’ 

Lionel Balfour murmured some w^ords of encouragement 
in the girbs ear and led her away into an apartment that was 
less heated and crowded. 

Meanwhile, in the hall Rodney Denwood paused with a 
card in his hand, the card which the Mephistopheles of the 
evening had presented him upon entering. Upon the bit of 
pasteboard was engraved the name of Howard Pelham. 

‘‘ Was he invited, I wonder,^’ was the footman’s mental 
query, “ and will Mrs. Balfour thank me for admitting him ? 
I know they are not on the best of terms, and in my own 
mind I suspect Mr. Pelham of being in league with 

He broke off abruptly in his soliloquy and was about to 
dart after the receding figure in the floating scarlet mantle, 
when the absurdity of his actions occurred to him, and he 
turned back with a muttered curse upon his officious stupidity. 

Shortly afterward Lionel Balfour found himself alone, Rosa^ 
lind having been captured by a fifteenth century knight, who 
led her away to join in the w^altz which was just then breath^ 
ing its cjelirious measures from the ballroom, 


70 


4 CO A CHMAN'S LOVE; OR, 


Suddenly, oppressed by a feeling of weary loneliness, the 
young man wandered back to the reception-room in search 
of his fatal magnet. 

But Adelaide Balfour had disappeared ; she had probably 
assumed her mask and mixed with the dancers. 

More than ever disconsolate, Lionel mounted the staircase^ 
which was lined with ascending and descending masks in 
every description of costume, from almost the simplicity of 
the raiment adopted by the denizens of Eden to that of the 
latest French opera, and idly entered one of the cardrooms 
upon the first floor. 

The apartment was deserted, and for want of better em- 
ployment he took up a pack of cards from the table and 
listlessly shuffled them. 

Suddenly he became overpowered and sickened by the prev- 
alence of a pungent perfume, the perfume of Ylang-Ylang, 
and upon turning round to ascertain who had intruded upon 
his seclusion, he found himself face to face with the scar- 
let Mephistopheles, 

His Majesty of the nether world bowed courteously and 
closed the door. 

This is Mr. Lionel Balfour, I believe,’^ he said, in a low 
and not unpleasant voice. 

Lionel started as he recollected that he had removed his 
mask for a breath of air, and was about to replace it hastily, 
when the devil said, raising one red hand, 

Pray do not disturb yourself ; this masking is only child’s 
play. As we are alone, suppose we keep up the spirit of the 
night by your allowing me to tell your fortune.” 

Not wishing to be discourteous to any of his uncle’s guests, 
Lionel seated himself at the table and motioned the fiend to 
take the chair opposite him. 

With ready tact Mephistopheles picked up the cards and 
spread them out upon the table. 

“ By all that’s infernal ! ” he exclaimed after a cursory 
glance ; ‘‘ two ladies at once ! One a friend, the other an an- 


THE HEIRESS OF A MlLLlOH. 71 

gel ; both beautiful ; mother and daughter, if I am not mis- 
taken ! '' 

He glanced through his scarlet mask and saw that his au* 
ditor was ghastly pale. 

“ It seems you favor the elder lady/^ the wizard went on 
mercilessly, ‘‘but beware I Her hands are stained with blood, 
she is a murderess ! 

Scarcely were the awful words pronounced ere Lionel Bal- 
four sprang to his feet. 

“ You lie ! he cried. 

“ My dear sir,’^ exclaimed Mephistopheles, also rising ; 
“ I sincerely beg your pardon. This is but a jest.’’ 

“ It is no jest,” gasped young Balfour huskily ; “ you are 
maligning the purest, fairest woman in all the world ! ” 

“ You refer to Mrs. Gordon Balfour ? ” 

“ I do ! ” 

Ah, he could have bitten his tongue out for his mad folly ! 
How innocently he had fallen into the trap which had been 
so cunningly laid for him 1 

“ Since you drive me to a confession,” said the mask, “ I 
must acknowledge that Mrs. Balfour is guilty of a crime.” 

“ What crime ? ” 

“ Murder ! ” 

“ Dare you give me the proofs of what you affirm ? ” 

“ She shall give you them herself. When next an opportu- 
nity serves, ask her why she discharged her coachman, Oscar 
Cameron ; where he is now^ and why, upon the night of the 
2 oth of last November, she was waiting in her chamber to re- 
ceive a man who came to her at two o’clock in the morning ? ” 

“My God!” 

As he uttered the despairing exclamation, Lionel Balfour 
sank upon his chair, almost fainting with the horror of this rev- 
elation. 

“ Adelaide Vernon paid certain persons to murder Oscar 
Cameron,” the mask continued, “because the poor fellow had 
dared to raise his love to the altitude of her daughter, and be- 


A COACHMAN^S LOVE ; OE, 


cause this coachman held certain letters of a compromising 
nature which Miss Rosalind Vernon had written himE 

Enough, enough ! Good God, man, would you drive me 
mad ? Who are you ? ” 

Mephistopheles, at your service/’ 

The mask receded towards the door with a profound bow 
and laid his hand upon the handle. 

Lionel struggled to rise in the hope of detaining him, but 
his trembling limbs refused to bear their burden and he sank 
back pantingi 

An instant later he was alone* 

Ohj merciful Heaven,’' he gasped in horror, “ if this thing 
be true 1 dm released from my guilty love, but my uncle !--=* 
oh, God, my poor uncle ! ” 

A few minutes later he started to his feet, cold and resolute. 

** I will prove this accusation ! If it be false, I will hunt 
that vile calumniator down and have his life for his villany ; 
if it be true, then ” 

He ceased his muttered utterance, and reasSuming his 
mask, mingled with the carnival scene, now at its height. 

Though he hunted high and low for the vanished Mephis- 
topheles he did not find him that night. 


CHAPTER XIL 

THE PINK DOMINO, 

While Lionel Balfour had been learning the hideous secret 
of Adelaide Balfour’s life, that lady herself had been waltzing 
upon the arm of one of the leaders of the ton disguised in the 
poetic helmet and snowy mantle of the knight Lohengrin, 
and the marvellous picture of grace and beauty that the pair 
presented as they glided over the polished floor had been re- 
marked by all. 

As the concluding measures of Lamothe’s latest fancy died 
away upon the air, the knight led his lady into the vast con- 
servatory and seated her in the refreshing shade of a flower, 
ing acacia. 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION. 73 

Permit me to bring you a sorbet ^ Mrs. Balfour/’ he said, 
bending low. 

Thank you, I should be glad of one,” was the lady’s reply ; 
and happy to execute the favor, the gentleman departed to 
where the sumptuous table glittered with glass and crystal 
in the distance. 

Left alone for the moment^ Adelaide Balfour was upon the 
point of leaning back in her seat with a sigh of conscious 
pride and comfort, when, from the dense umbrage of the 
spreading acacia, there glided a figure concealed by a pink 
domino and mask, and paused at her side. 

“ Gome with me,” whispered the low voice of a woman, which 
somehow or other was not unfamiliar in its tone. 

The lady rose, unconscious as to the motive which prompted 
her to obey the singular command ; and forgetful of her 
engagement with the knight, she followed the domino out of 
the conservatory, across the hall, and into a small room at the 
rear of the house, which was rarely if ever made any use of. 

The apartment was dimly lighted, while heavy silken draper- 
ies hung before the embrasure of a deep bay window. 

Believing that she had been summoned thither to assist in 
some joke concocted by her guests, Mrs. Balfour threw her 
self upon a sofa and removed her white satin mask. 

‘‘ I haven’t the faintest idea who you are,” she said with a 
careless smile. # 

“ But you know me all the same,” replied the mask in that 
strangely familiar voice. 

I dare say ; we are only surrounded by friends here to- 
night,” the lady said. 

“And the friends of the dead,” supplemented the un- 
known. 

Adelaide Balfour started violently at the awfully significant 
words. 

“ I beg your pardon,” she faltered ; “ I believe I did not 
quite catch your last remark.” 

“ Never mind,” replied the mask, who stood erect before 


74 


A COACHMAN^S LOVE; OR, 


her with the stern immobility of a statue ; never mind, if you 
did not understand me, Mrs. Balfour, you will laterT 

Is this some jest, some practical joke I am being sub- 
jected to ? ” she demanded daringly ; ‘‘ if so, pray enlighten 
me, that I too may enjoy it.” 

It is no jest.” 

“ What then ? ” 

‘‘ Serious earnest.” 

Adelaide Balfour laughed. Why should she not ? What 
had she to fear from a woman weak as herself, shimmering be- 
fore her there in a tawdry pink silk domino. 

Well, proceed with this momentous business,” she said de- 
fiantly, after a brief pause. 

I obey your request,” murmured the stranger ; “ I have a 
solemn promise to perform in coming here to-night.” 

“ Indeed ? ” 

‘‘You might not be quite so indifferent, madam, did you 
know you were surrounded to-night by the avengers of the 
dead.” 

Again Adelaide Balfour laughed, this time with a harsh, dis- 
cordant sound. 

“You have twice referred to the dead,” she exclaimed; 
“pray be more explicit ; whom do you mean ? ” 

“ I yiean Oscar Cameron, madam.” 

She started to her feet, pallid with terror and fury. 

“Why do you mention that man to me?” she cried; “I 
care not whether he is dead or alive ! ” 

“ But you knew him once.” 

“ As a lady is acquainted with the man she engages and 
pays to be her coachman ! ” 

“Ay, but your daughter ? ” 

“ I doubt if Rosalind could so much as recall the fellow’s 
name ! ” she cried angrily. 

“ What if her letters should forcibly put her in mind of 
him ? ” 

The guilty woman recoiled with a stifled gasp. 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION. 


75 


‘‘The letters ! she breathed huskily ; “ what of those let- 
ters ? 

“ They are safe, one and all/’ 

“ Are you the possessor of them ? ” 

“No, madam.” 

“Who is, then?” 

“ A friend of mine.” 

“ And what price does that friend demand for the valueless 
things ? ” 

“ Your downfall, madam ! ” 

Adelaide Balfour strode haughtily to the door. 

“ I will not longer lend myself to such infamous jugglery,” 
she said. 

As she spoke, she laid one trembling hand upon the handle, 
but to her surprise it resisted her utmost efforts to open 

it. 

Livid with rage she turned about and confronted the im- 
movable domino. 

“Why have you locked this door?” she demanded. 

“Because my mission with you is not concluded,” was the 
reply. 

“ What more have you to say ? ” 

“ Of myself, nothing. There is another member of the 
league to which I belong who wishes to speak a word with 
you.” 

Finding herself utterly at the mercy of these daring stran- 
gers, and far too proud to scream for help, Adelaide Balfour as- 
sumed a tone of bravado which she was far from feeling, and 
with a shrug of her graceful shoulders, returned to her seat. 

“ I will see this farce out,” she murmured. “ After all, I 
am in my own house, and sooner or later my husband will 
come in search of me.” 

“ That husband whom you have so basely deceived ! ” sup- 
plemented the mask. 

Affecting not to have heard this significant remark, the lady 
regarded her inquisitor with an impertinent glance as she said, 


76 


A COACmiAN^S LOVE ; OR, 


‘‘I am wasting a deal of valuable time; pray when will this 
ally of yours present himself ? ’’ 

He is here ! ” 

The pink domino raised one shrouded arm and pointed 
towards the silken drapery that hung before the bay-window. 

He is here already/’ she said. 

Though Adelaide Balfour did not move, she was painfully 
conscious that behind her another presence had entered the 
room. 

She grasped her fan until the delicate pearl sticks fairly 
snapped beneath the convulsive pressure, but her voice be- 
trayed no token of the tempest of emotion that raged within 
her as she said, 

Speak ! I am listening. If you have come to extort money 
for those poor, innocent letters, name the price, and I will 
consider the justice of the demand.” 

There was no reply. 

In fact, the most tomb-like silence pervaded the room, 
broken only by the distant music as it reached them through 
the panels of the heavy door. 

Adelaide Balfour did not repeat her demand. Chilled with 
a nameless dread she slowly turned her head, resting her 
gloved hands upon the arm of the sofa. 

Slowly her violet eyes dilated, the color forsook her face, 
and her clenching fingers entered the yielding velvet like 
clamps of steel. 

She saw a man standing silent and immovable before the 
draped window. A tall, athletic man, attired in plain even- 
ing dress, with a black mantle flowing from his left arm, and 
a velvet mask of the same sombre hue before his face. 

He might have been a mere lay figure, an imitation, for all 
signs of life that he presented, all except in the openings in 
his black mask, where burned a pair of eyes like blazing, living 
coals of fire. 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION, 


77 


CHAPTER XIIL 

WHAT THE FAN BETRAYED* 

Very slowly, and as though completely dominated by those 
gleaming eyes, Adelaide Balfour stole from the sofa where- 
on she had been sitting and took a few stealthy paces tow- 
ards the statuesque figure. 

She paused when midway across the apartment and bent 
forward, eagerly studying the impenetrable mask in the dim 
light. 

As though apparently afraid to advance another step, she 
demanded in a low, strained voice, that was scarce audible, 
You wish to speak to me ? ” 

There was no reply ; the brilliant eyes glittered in the 
mask, but that was all. 

The terrified woman passed her hand swiftly before her 
eyes, as though a film had obscured their sight ; it seemed to 
her that the candles burned with a dimmer, greenish light in 
their sconces, and that a chill, like the dampness of the grave, 
was diffused upon the air of the silent chamber. 

She made bold to advance a single step nearer. 

“ Who are you ? she breathed fearfully. 

Still no reply. 

‘‘ If you cannot speak, show me your face at least,'’ added 
the guilty woman, unmindful that every word she uttered was 
recorded by the silent figure in pink behind her, “ show me 
your face ! 1 wish to be sure that the mad suspicion which 

IS upon me is groundless ! " 

Swift to obey her command, the figure raised his right hand 
and quickly removed the black velvet mask which until now 
had obscured his features. 

Adelaide Balfour recoiled with a shriek of dismay ; and 
well she might, for the features upon which her dilated eyes 
rested were those of Oscar Cameron, her victim. 

For a moment a wild thrill of hope shot through her breast, 


7S 


A COACUMAN^S LOVE; OR, 


Perhaps, after all, Rodney Denwood was mistaken about that 
piece of work on the night of the 20th of November; perhaps 
there had been some mistake, or perhaps Old Noll and Celio 
Vasquez had softened to the voice of pity and had not ex- 
ecuted her fearful commands. In that case she was guiltless i 

Actuated by this mad hope, she sprang across the room^ 
snatched a small bronze candelabra from the mantle and 
glared into the face of the unwelcome intruder. 

Crash went the bronze, the candles were extinguished by 
the fall, and the unhappy woman fell prostrate upon the floor, 
insensible as stone. 

The face she had gazed upon during that fateful moment 
was the face of a dead man • there could be no doubt of that ; 
.the sunken eyes, the greenish, pallid skin, and the dark, hid- 
‘-eously compressed lips that were drawn back just far enough 
to show the gleaming teeth. 

No sooner had the lady fallen than the figure quickly re- 
placed his black mask, and as he did so, the pink domino 
glided forward and knelt beside the stricken woman, remov- 
ing her mask to show the pale, revengeful face of Myra 
Cameron. 

A single glance revealed the fact that Mrs. Balfour had 
merely fallen in a dead faint, nothing more serious ; therefore 
the girl arose quickly, and reassuming her mask, she accepted 
the proffered arm of her companion. 

Without a word the pair passed through the heavy silken 
curtains that hung before the bay window, opened the long 
casement, and descending two or three stone steps, were soon 
lost to sight in the shadows of the garden that extended at 
the back of the mansion. 

After this the hours sped swiftly onward, and in the silent 
room the graceful figure lay passively upon the floor, the 
snowy folds of the Venetian velvet trailing white in the dim 
candlelight. 

At last, and just when the first gray lances of returning 
day began to kindle in the east, there came a violent knock- 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION. 


79 


ing at the heavy door ; then a terrific crash as the door was 
burst open, and, with a cry of dismay, Gordon Balfour and 
Rosalind sprang into the chamber, followed by three or four 
footmen, among whom was Rodney Denwood. 

Amid the wildest confusion they raised the stricken lady 
and bore her away swiftly to her sumptuous boudoir., where in 
the tesselated fire-place logs of wood crackled cheerily upon 
dogs of polished steel. 

Here they laid their lovely burden upon a couch of violet 
velvet and applied every restorative that the mind of man 
ever conceived. 

And Adelaide Balfour came slowly back to life and con- 
sciousness to find herself in her husband’s fond embrace, 
with her daughter kneeling before her, chafing her icy hands. 

She rallied quickly and raised herself with a wan 
smile. 

“ Oh, how very foolish I have been ! ” she faltered hyster- 
ically. 

‘‘ Tell us all about it, dearest,” murmured Gordon Balfour 
eagerly ; we had been seeking you high and low when we 
found the door of the garden-room locked. In Heaven’s 
name, Adelaide, how came you there alone, and in that 
swoon ? ” 

It happened in this way,” replied the inimitable actress, 
now quite herself ; it was long after midnight, and I had 
been waltzing until I became giddy and exhausted. Feeling 
that a few moments of rest would revive me, I bethought me 
of the garden-room, and escaped thither. 

Just as I was about to throw myself upon the lounge, how- 
ever, a sudden faintness oppressed me, and ere I could reach 
the casement to open it I must have lost consciousness.” 

“ But the door ! ” breathed Balfour ; ‘‘ who locked the 
door ? ” 

‘‘ I did, to escape intrusion 1 ” 

He drew her within his loving embrace and kissed her still 
pallid lips. 


8o 


THE COACHMAN^ S LOVE; OR, 


My poor dear,” he murmured, “ how you must have suf- 
fered all these hours beyond the reach of help ! ” 

She nestled closer to him, and looked into his face with that 
smile which was her deadliest weapon, thanking her star that 
he had not recalled the circumstance of the broken candela- 
bra which lay beside her ; it might have been more difficult 
for her to explain how that had come there. 

Then, in order to escape further attention, she turned to 
her daughter who was still kneeling at her feet. 

‘‘ Rosalind, my dear,” she said, ‘‘ how pale you are ! You 
must be dreadfully tired. Do go right to bed; that’s a good 
girl ! ” 

‘‘ You are quite recovered, dear mother ? ” Rosalind asked 
affectionately. 

‘‘Yes, entirely.” 

“Cannot I do anything for you before I go ?” she 
urged. I 

“ Nothing, dear, unless you will hand me that fan from the j 
mantle.” | 

Rosalind arose quickly and offered her mother a fan of rich 1 
peacock feathers set in a handle of intricately carved ivory, 
Adelaide Balfour kissed her child and nodded encouraging- 
ly to her as she lingeringly retired. 

As she crossed the now spacious but deserted hall, and was 
about to ascend the staircase, Rosalind encountered Lionel ^ 
Balfour. j 

The young man had laid aside his domino and mask, and 
stood before her in simple evening toilet. 

He started visibly as his eyes rested upon the girl, and he 
involuntarily extended his hand, which Rosalind took wonder- 
ingly. 

“ Good-night,” he said, with peculiar significance ; “ we are 
the same good friends as ever, are we not ? ” 

“ Certainly, so far as I am concerned.” 

“ Then may I say a few important words to you to-morrow, 
Miss Rosalind ? ” he asked. 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION, 8l 

When you will, I arn at your command. Good-night.’’ 

She smiled that sweet, innocent smile of hers and left 
him. 

Lionel gazed long and earnestly after the retreating figure 
and murmured. 

Thank God for her angelic face ! It has done much tow- 
ards putting these accursed fancies out of my head. But 
Mrs. Balfour — I must see her before I sleep to-night ! ” 

He had been informed by a passing footman that his mas- 
ter and mistress were in the boudoir. 

Thither the young man went, and as the door stood ajar, he 
pushed it open and entered. 

Adelaide Balfour reclined upon the velvet divan, slowly 
waving the fan of peacock feathers to and fro, while her hus- 
band occupied one of the deep reclining chairs before the 
open fire, and was enjoying a fragrant Havana after the fa- 
tigues of the night. 

As Lionel entered, they both smiled him a welcome. 

“ Come in, my boy,” cried Gordon Balfour, turning his 
chair to catch a glimpse of the pale face ; by Jove, here’s 
another demoralized party ! I shall steer clear of balls in 
the future ; they don’t agree with my family.” 

‘‘ I have nothing to complain of, uncle,” returned the 
young man, leaning gracefully upon the corner of the mantle 
that he might have an unimpeded view of Adelaide Balfour’s 
face, which at present was as serene as a summer’s sky. 

But you look worn, Lionel,” the lady said. 

He felt his blood thrill as her magnetic gaze rested upon 
him ; still he was not to be diverted from his purpose. 

‘‘ I am not so weary as the poor creatures who have striven 
to make our entertainment a success must be,” he said ; 
“ think of the musicians, the artisans, and the coachmen who 
sat so many hours without in the frosty night !” 

His eyes were riveted upon the face of his uncle’s wife, 
but she smiled approvingly and the fan moved listlessly to 
and fro. 


82 


A COACHMAN^S LOVE ; OR, 


I made arrangements to have all these people properly 
cared for,” Gordon Balfour said. 

‘‘ I do not for an instant doubtyour generosity, dear uncle,” 
Lionel added ; but I refer to their feelings ; do you not sup- 
pose they too wished to join in our festivity ? Why, scarcely 
two hours ago, I was told such a harrowing story. A young 
man, a coachman to a family of standing in this city, dared 
to aspire to the daughter of the house. And what was his 
fate ? He was murdered, secretly, and in cold blood 1 ” 

Never for an instant had he taken his gaze from Mrs. 
Balfour’s face ; but the smile was still there and the fan con- 
tinued to wave. Murdered ! ” gasped Gordon Balfour, start- 
ing violently and glancing at his apparently unconscious wife, 

“ murdered for what ? ” 

^‘Because he held compromising letters from the young I 
lady.” ^ ^ 

The fan still waved, but a sudden set look had come upon 
the lady’s compressed lips. 

Of the three Gordon Balfour was the most excited. 

Did you learn the name of the family which is stained with 
such a crime ? ” he breathed. 

No, my informant could not tell me that, but the unhappy 

young man was ” • 

Who ? ” cried the elder gentleman. • 

One Oscar Cameron ! ” ] 

The fan stopped sharply and fell to the floor, though Lio- j 
nel Balfour alone noted the significant fact. j 

Blanching to the lips, Gordon Balfour exclaimed, Lionel, ' 
you will do me a special favor by never mentioning such un- 
pleasant topics in the presence of my wife ; they are distaste- 
ful to her ! ” 

As the young man bent his head before the rebuke, his eyes i 
met those of Adelaide Balfour, in a steady, searching stare. ' 
“ She is guilty ! ” he thought with a sickening pang at his 
heart. 

‘‘ He knows too much ! ” was her mental ejaculation. 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION, 


83 


With the rays of the morning sun illumining the dainty fres- 
coes of her private room and paling the candles dying in their 
silver sconces, Adelaide Vernon Balfour stood before her ser- 
vant and accomplice in crime. 

“ Denwood,” she said steadily, terribly, we have a new 
enemy ! Lionel Balfour must be watched ! Do you under- 
stand ? Watched ! Do not allow him to be out of your sight 
day ornight ! You will lose nothing by serving me faithfully 
in this important particular. Now, go ! 


CHAPTER XIV. 

UNDER THE ACACIA. 

On the morning succeeding the masked ball, breakfast in 
the Gramercy Park mansion was served very late ; in fact it 
was already the usual lunch-hour ere any of the family put in 
an appearance. 

The first to leave his chamber was the master himself, Gor 
don Balfour; he descended the staircase with a somewhat 
care-wprn expression upon his handsome face, and went di- 
rectly into the library to his papers and the contents of his 
mail-packet, and it was here that coffee and a roll were served 
him.- 

Adelaide Balfour did not leave her bed ; her maid informed 
the servants that her mistress must be sleeping very heavily, 
for she had not yet rung her bell, in spite of its being noon- 
tide. 

Rosalind Vernon breakfasted in the great dining-room 
alone ; that is, she made a feint of breakfasting, for she had 
no appetite, and more than all, the fixed gaze with which the 
footman, Rodney Denwood, regarded her rendered her the 
more anxious not to leave the delicate viands he had arranged 
to tempt her, untouched. 

But the poor girl was strangely pale, and there was a weary, 
haggard look upon her sweet face which even she was at a loss 
to account for. 

In her secret heart she half wished that Lionel would have 


84 


A COACHMAN^S LOVE ; OK, 


been at breakfast to keep her company, and because she 
stood in need this morning of such manly, cheery support as 
his presence always exerted. 

But the young man did not appear, nor did they meet until 
Rosalind had left the dining-room and was about to ascend to 
seek the solitude of her own chamber, which proved her only 
comfort and solace in these days of uncertainty and weari- 
some doubt. 

They came face to face in the spacious hall, at the foot of 
the staircase. 

Rosalind could not repress an exclamation of pained sur- 
prise as she glanced at Lionel Balfour. 

Well might the lines of care and misery be deeply imprint- 
ed upon that handsome face, for he had sat in his chamber 
wide awake thinking until the sun had been up for hours, and 
then only had he fallen into a troubled sleep from sheer ex- 
haustion. 

Before he had slept he had doubted his uncle’s wife, and 
even Rosalind ; but now that sleep had wiped away the hor- 
rors of the night, he was ready again to trust implicitly* in the 
integrity of all womankind. 

His was an integrity of a high order, and all the greater 
was the fearful revelation in store for him when at last he 
should be convinced that the heart of woman may be as dark^ 
if not darker, than was ever that of her master. 

Well, Miss Rosalind,” he said in his hearty way, taking 
her proffered hand ; I suppose I look terribly dissipated this 
morning ? ” 

“You look distressed and unhappy,” she replied, frankly. 

A troubled look flitted over his pale face. 

“ Perhaps you are mistaken,” he faltered. 

“No, I am confident I am not mistaken,” she said ; “ there 
is something preying upon your mind.” 

As she uttered these words, a step close behind them 
aroused Lionel, and turning suddenly, he met the small black 
eyes of Rodney Denwood fixed upon him. The man was ap- 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION. 


85 


parently in the act of removing some faded flowers from a 
vase which stood upon one of the hall tables ; in point of 
fact, however, he was obeying his mistress^ orders to keep a 
strict watch upon the young gentleman. 

In a low undertone Lionel Balfour said, “ I cannot bear 
that man ; he is watching us. Will you come into the con- 
servatory a moment } I would like to speak to you.^’ 

Rosalind acquiesced by a nod, and together they passed 
into the fragrant depths of the blooming exotics, leaving Rod" 
ney Denwood standing in the hall with a peculiar smile upon 
his colorless face. 

Leading Rosalind to her favorite nook beneath the acacia, 
Lionel seated himself beside her. 

The worn, haggard look had inclreased since he had been 
told that his secret had been discovered, and all the misera- 
ble doubt of the night before had returned. 

“Miss Rosalind,’’ he began, “you have declared yourself 
willing to be my friend. Will you prove it now ? ” 

The girl looked at him, all the purity of her spotless soul 
glowing in her eyes* 

“ Gladly,” she said. 

“ Then tell me whether you ever heard the name of Oscar 
Cameron.” 

It was a terrific shot, and, coming so unexpectedly, told 
with all the greater power. Rosalind flushed hotly, and then 
went very pale. 

Watching her closely, Lionel Balfour could scarcely repress 
the cry of pain that rose to his lips. 

“ Why do you ask me about him ? ” the girl faltered. 

“ Because I wish to know whether such a person ever ex- 
isted.” 

“Yes ; such a person does exist,” she said, honestly. 

“ Does exist ! You say that Oscar Cameron does exist ! 
the young man exclaimed, almost wild with hope. 

“ I have every reason to suppose so,” murmured poor Rosa^ 


86 


A COACHMAN^S LOVE; OR, 


lind, nearly beside herself with her endeavor to command 
her nerves ; but why do you ask ? 

“ Because I wish to know who this man is.” 

He was my mother’s coachman before her marriage with 
your uncle.” 

‘‘ Where is he now ? ” 

“ He was dismissed and went away to a distant part of the 
country.” 

Rosalind, are you sure of what you say ” 

She rose to her feet, trembling in every limb. 

“ Mr. Balfour,” she cried, the scalding tears starting in her 
sv/eet eyes, ^‘you told me that you wdshed me to prove my. 
friendship for you. I do not consider such cross-questioning 
as you are subjecting me to either the part of a friend or a 
gentleman. I can only tell you that Oscar Cameron once 
proved himself more than a servant to me, and that I now 
pray the good God that he is in the enjoyment of the health 
and happiness which he deserves.” 

It was a valiant effort, but proved too much of a strain up- 
'on the delicate girl. With the tears coursing down her pallid 
cheeks and the sobs rending her bosom, she left him and fled 
precipitately up to her chamber, and there gave vent to the 
grief and anguish which, for the first time since her parting 
with the man she loved, had overmastered her. 

Sitting alone in the conservatory, Lionel Balfour experi- 
enced a thrill of relief which it would be difficult to describe. 

“Thank God,” he murmured audibly, “it is all a vile cal- 
umny devised by some jealous mind ! Rosalind is innocent, 
and I believe it impossible that the mother of such a daugh- 
ter could be stained with guilt herself. No, I will forever 
banish the suspicion as unworthy the consideration of a man 
and a gentleman.” 

Scarcely had he uttered the brave words when a dark shadow 
fell across the tesselated marbles of the floor, and, upon 
glancing up, he met the sinister face of Rodney Denwood, 
the footman. 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION. 


87 


Annoyed past endurance by this additional intrusion upon 
the part of a fellow he could not bear to have near him, Lio- 
nel sprang to his feet, his dark eyes aflame with indignation. 

‘‘ How dare you ’’ he exclaimed, when Denwood, with 

one of his obsequious bows, presented a letter. 

Pardon me, Mr. Balfour,” he said humbly ; ^Hhis letter is 
for you.” 

Lionel took the missive and turned his back haughtily 
upon the intruder. 

I’ll make you pay for your insolence one of these days, 
my fine coxcomb,” he muttered to himself, as he slowly 
retired to acquaint his mistress that her husband’s nephew 
had received a letter bearing the New York postmark, and 
sealed with black wax which bore the impress of a death’s 
head. 

Not yet recovered from his vexation Lionel Balfour broke 
the seal and hastily ran his eyes over the significant words 
contained within. 

He read the lines, started, smoothed out the sheet, and 
passed his hand before his eyes as if to clear away an imagi- 
nary mist. 

“ What is this ? ” he murmured in a bewildered way ; “ is 
it some joke, or — — ” 

Here he fell to reading again, and the words he read were 
these : 

“ You are inclined to doubt the integrity of our mission. 
The man who addressed you last night at the ball, in the 
character of Mephistopheles, was no mere masker bent upon 
a practical joke, but an avenger of the dead. Continue in 
your enforced belief in the honor of a guilty woman at your 
peril. We do not request you to come to us for the purpose 
of being further convinced, we merely advise it.” 

Here was subjoined an address of a house in an obscure 
street in a far from fashionable part of the city, 

With a suppressed moan the young man dropped upon the 
seat from which he had just arisen. 


88 


A COACHMAN'S LOVE; OR, 


“ My God ! he gasped, “ how is it possible for a woman 
apparently so pure and honorable to have such implacable, 
such deadly enemies ! What does it all mean ? Is she guilty 
of the murder of this Oscar Cameron, or not ? ” 

He sat there for hours lost in intense thought, the myste- 
rious letter crushed in his hand. At one time he concluded 
to show his uncle the missive and beg him to accompany him 
to the address given, and then and there sift the enigma to 
the end. 

Upon second thought he determined not to subject his 
noble benefactor to such a tiydng ordeal ; it would be time 
enough to deal him what was likely to prove his death-blow 
when he had proved the validity of the fearful charge. 

No, he would go alone to the place and meet these so- 
called avengers of the dead face to face. 

The short, wintry day was already closing in with heavy, 
leaden clouds and a flurry of snow in the frigid air as Lionel 
entered the dining-room and ordered a glass of wine and 
some biscuits. 

I shall dine at the club to-night,” l^e said to the servant 
in attendance. 

He encountered no impediment as he took his hat and coat, 
for his uncle had gone out, Mrs. Balfour had not left her 
chamber, and Rosalind was likewise invisible. 

The street-lamps had not as yet been lighted, and as Lionel 
reached the icy pavement and hurried away in the direction 
which had been given him, the figure of a man glided like a 
shadow from an area-door of the Balfour mansion and 
followed him, keeping always at a discreet distance, should 
the young gentleman suddenly turn. 

That figure was the footman, Rodney Denwood, the hired 
spy and accomplice of the honored wife of Gordon Balfour. 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION. 


89 


CHAPTER XV. 

CONSCIENCE. 

At dinner that night, Mr. and Mrs. Balfour and Rosalind 
met for the first time during the day. 

Silent and preoccupied with her own thoughts, Rosalind 
scarcely noticed how surpassingly beautiful her mother was, 
in a matchless costume of varied greens, with silver embroid- 
ery, a late importation from that reigning master of the toilet, 
Worth, of Paris. 

More than all, Adelaide Balfour was as gay and witty as 
she was lovely, and within a few minutes after meeting her 
husband had completely charmed away the gloomy, thought- 
ful look upon his face. 

In answer to Gordon Balfour^s inquiry for his absent 
nephew, Rosalind said that he had gone to dine at the 
club. 

They neither of them noted the expression of annoyance 
that flitted over Mrs. Balfour^s countenance as these words 
were spoken. 

‘‘ Lionel must have left his heart in Europe,^’ she said with 
ill-concealed venom, “ since he cares so little for oiir society.^^ 
I think you wrong the boy,’^ was her husband’s generous 
reply ; “ I cannot see but that he has been most attentive to 
us all since his return.” 

^’‘Too much so for my liking,” were the words which rose 
to the lady’s lips, but she wisely suppressed them, and allowed 
her eyes to wander restlessly towards the open door of the 
dining-room, through which a glimpse of the illuminated hall 
beyond was afforded. 

But the object of her anxiety did not appear, and unable 
long to endure the quiet dinner she rose, and, beckoning 
Rosalind to follow her, went away to the drawing-room, leav- 
ing her husband to finish his wine and cigar in solitude. 

‘‘ What can have happened to Denwood that he should re- 
main away all these hours ? ” she asked herself, as she threw 


90 


A COACHMAN'S LOVE : OR, 


her graceful figure upon a divan, always keeping the open 
door of the hall in sight. 

Rosalind seated herself in a retired nook near a jardiniere 
filled with fragrant flowers and tried to interest herself in a 
book, though she could not keep her mind upon her reading, 
oppressed as she was by a presentiment of brooding evil. 

At last her mother, roused from her reverie, which could 
not have been one of an agreeable nature, judging from the 
frown that rested upon her brow, exclaimed petulantly, 

“ Rosalind ! 

Well, mother ? 

“ What is the matter with you ? 

“Nothing that I am aware of,’^ replied the poor girl; “I 
am not feeling quite well. Perhaps it is the reaction after 
the excitement of last evening.^^ 

“ Nonsense ! I know better than that. You may be feel- 
ing the effects of late hours, but there is something on your 
mind, Rosalind Vernon ; don’t tell me that there is not ! ” 

Rosalind raised a face, pale as a lily and full of pitiful 
pleading. 

“ Mother, you are mistaken/’ she began, when Adelaide 
Balfour cut her short. 

“ Don’t seek to deceive me,” she cried, leaning forward 
upon the divan and eyeing the girl sharply with a glance 
which only Rosalind and Rodney Denwood had ever seen in 
those soft, gray eyes ; “ don’t attempt to make a dupe of me ! 
I know^ well enough what ails you.” 

Rosalind paled to the lips and tightly clasped her cold 
hands about the book she held. 

“ Do you fancy for a moment,” cried Adelaide Balfour, 
now thoroughly aroused, “ that I do not know that you have 
7iever banished the memory of that wretched coachman, that 
low-lived Oscar Cameron, from your mind ? ” 

The girl did not reply beyond the flash of indignant fire, 
which utterly transformed the sweet expression of her 
eyes. 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION. 91 

“ For shame, Rosalind,’’ continued the lady disdainfully ; 
‘‘ I fairly blush for you, a daughter of mine, and a step- 
daughter of the Honorable Gordon Balfour!” 

With lips so tightly compressed as scarcely to allow the 
passage of the murmured words, Rosalind said, 

‘‘You will never have cause to blush for me, mother, nor 
for Oscar Cameron either.” 

The brave words were received with a burst of harsh, joy- 
less laughter. 

“ 1 hope I can trust you, Rosalind, not to disgrace me, and 
I have no cause to fear any intrusion on the part of Oscar 
Cameron, for the very best of reasons. He is dead 

It was evident that Adelaide Balfour had expected a wild 
burst on Rosalind’s part, or a swoon at least, when she had 
delivered herself of this startling revelation, for she half rose 
from the divan with outstretched arms. 

What was her surprise, however, to find her daughter ap- 
parently unmoved, and regarding her with a firm, unyielding 
glance. 

Oscar Cameron is dead,” she said steadily, “which I 
very much doubt and pray Heaven may not be the case, you 
are responsible for his fate ! ” 

Mrs. Balfour sprang to her feet as though she had received 
a violent shock of electricity. 

“ What do you mean ? ” she gasped wildly, apprehensive 
lest her own child was numbered in the league which had 
joined together to hunt her down ; but Rosalind’s next words 
put her guilty mind at rest upon that score. 

“ I am sorry to say it, mother,” she murmured ; “ but in 
my heart I believe you have sent Oscar Cameron out upon the 
world a desperate man.” 

“ A doom he richly deserves for his impudent assurance,” , 
was the rejoinder, with a sigh of intense relief, as she sank 
back upon her couch ; “ still that danger is all over now, since 
the cause of it is dead.” 

“ How do you know he is dead 1 ” 


92 


A COACHMAN^S LOVE ; OR, 


‘‘ His sister sent me word to that effect/’ was the daring 
falsehood. 

With her clasped hands pressing upon the letters and the 
faded violets which had been so mysteriously sent her, and 
which now nestled among the soft laces that concealed her 
heaving bosom, Rosalind said. 

Living, I loved Oscar Cameron ; dead, I shall respect 
his memory and remain faithful to it ! 

It is doubtful whether Adelaide Balfour so much as heard 
the undaunted words, for at the moment her eyes, which had 
never for a moment relaxed their anxious vigil upon the half- 
open door, suddenly encountered a dark shadow upon the 
threshold, which was immediately succeeded by the figure of 
Rodney Denwood. 

With a simple but very significant nod of his closely-cropped 
head, the man vanished as silently as he had appeared. 

The restless watcher required no second hint that there 
was important news in store for her, and rising, she abruptly 
quitted the apartment. 

Sitting with her back to the door, Rosalind had not seen 
the expressive pantomime which had taken place between 
Mrs. Balfour and the footman, and so naturally inferred that 
her mother had left her in speechless indignation. 

The poor girl had spoken more daringly in support of her 
love than she would have wished to, and consequently she 
regretted her hastiness. 

In order to escape a conversation with her step-father, whom 
she felt utterly unequal to meeting in her present excited 
frame of mind, she hurriedly withdrew and immured herself 
in the seclusion of her own chamber. 

Meanwhile Adelaide Balfour had gone hastily to her boudoir 
in a state of no slight agitation. 

She started back with a low cry as she entered the room 
and found her accomplice already anticipating her coming 
upon the tiger-skin rug before the fire. 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION 


93 


With trembling hands she closed the door, and sped across 
the floor to where the footman stood. 

“ WelV she gasped hoarsely, “ what news ? ’’ 

‘‘ Very particular news, madam,’’ was Denwood’s reply. 

You followed him ? ” 

‘‘Yes.” 

“ Where did he go ? ” 1 

“ To a house in Little Twelfth Street.’* 

“ Well, well, go on ! Good Heavens, don’t you see you 
are keeping me on the rack What did he do ? Whom did 
he meet ? ” 

“ Your friend, Mr. Howard Pelham.” 

“ Ah ! I thought as much. But proceed.” 

“ The two gentlemen entered the house together and se- 
cured the door. Half-an-hour later, Mr. Lionel Balfour came 
forth alone. He stopped a moment, raised his hat and wiped 
the perspiration from his forehead.” 

“ Did you see his face ? ” 

“ Yes, madam ; and he was as pale as a corpse.” 

Adelaide Balfour shuddered violently. 

“ For a moment he stood irresolute, glancing up and down 
the street,” continued Denwood ; “ at last he started off.” 

“ Did you follow him ? ” she breathed. 

“ I did, madam.” 

“ Whither did he go ? ” 

The man hesitated, toying nervously with his hat. 

“ I dread to say, madam,” he faltered. 

“ Out with it ! ” cried the desperate woman ; “ I must know 
the worst 1 ” 

“ Well, he went to the office of the chief of the detective policed 

“ Great God ! I am lost ! ” 

She staggered a step backward ; Denwood sprang forward 
to catch her should she fall insensible, but she waved him 
back and sank upon a chair, panting hoarsely. 

At that instant the door opened and Gordon Balfour en- 
tered the boudoir, 


94 


A COACHMAN'S LOVE; OR, 


CHAPTER XVI. 

OSCAR Cameron's successor. 

Amazement sat upon that haughty face as the gentleman 
paused upon the threshold and stared at his wife’s pallid, 
convulsed face. 

Then his dark eyes lighted with indignation as he turned 
and bent a stern, almost suspicious look upon the footman. 

‘‘ May I inquire what this means } ” he demanded in an icy 
voice. “ Adelaide, why do I find you in such a state of excite- 
ment ? Why are you here, Denwood ? Will some one be 
good enough to explain ? ” 

The guilty woman had started violently as that familiar 
voice smote her ear, and she had turned towards her husband 
with a sickly attempt at a smile upon her blanched face, but 
for the life of her she could not utter a word. 

‘‘ Well,” continued Gordon Balfour frigidly ; “ I am waiting. 
Will one of you favor me with an explanation ? ” 

It was Rodney Denwood who, with presence of mind rare in 
one of his craven nature, sprang into the breach and flew to the 
rescue of his distracted mistress. 

‘‘ Excuse me, sir,” he faltered with well-assumed peni- 
tence, “ I suppose 1 am at fault.” 

Then you may consider yourself at liberty to look for 
another place,” was the gentleman’s stern rejoinder. 

Adelaide Balfour turned paler still and glanced helplessly 
from one to the other. What was to become of her if she 
were to lose the support of her bounden ally in this, the very 
crisis, of her fate ? 

But Denwood was equal to the situation. 

I do not think you will dismiss me, sir,” he said, ‘‘ until 
you have heard how innocently I am the cause of your wife’s 
displeasure. ” 

'' I suppose I shall have to hear you,” was the annoyed 
reply ; what have you to say for yourself ? ” 

‘‘That madam sent me to Broadway for a piece of em- 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION, 


95 


broidery which she has done for you, sir,’' was the cunningly 
devised falsehood, “and I was obliged to bring her back 
word that the upholsterer, with whom it was left, has been 
robbed of the splendid work, and can find no clue to the 
thief. I trust, sir, you will graciously pardon me now,^^ 

He bowed submissively to conceal the triumphant smile 
he was powerless to repress. 

Gordon Balfour flushed hotly with mortification at his un- 
warranted outburst of indignation, and, in his momentary con- 
fusion, he failed to note the glance of eloquent gratitude 
which Adelaide Balfour bent upon her faithful henchman. 

“ She owes me one for pulling her out of that hole,” thought 
Denwood, as with head bent humbly upon his breast, he glided 
from the apartment and left the pair alone. 

For several moments Gordon Balfour remained looking at 
his beautiful wife. 

At last he advanced impetuously to where she sat and ex- 
tended his arms. 

“ Adelaide,” he cried contritely. 

Without a word she rose and crept into his fond embrace, 
nestling close to his breast and sobbing softly. 

“ My poor, wronged darling,” he murmured, pressing his 
lips upon her fair, bowed head, “ can you ever forgive me for 
my harshness ? ” 

“ If you will never doubt me again,” she faltered. 

“As God is my judge, never N'" he exclaimed passionately. 

Ah, those rash words ! 

Would the day ever dawn on which Gordon Balfour would 
recall that impulsive oath and despise himself for his foolish 
confidence in woman ? 

Adelaide Balfour must have been either asleep or mad if 
she did not make the most of the situation. The field was 
hers and she meant to occupy it. 

“ Gordon,” she murmured, looking up into his face with 
that angelic smile of hers, “you have accused, even con- 
demned me, of some unknown wrong upon no provocation 


96 


A COACmiAN^S LOVE ; OR, 


whatever ; how would it be did you really think you had 
grave cause to doubt my honor and fidelity ? ’’ 

In that moment the noble-hearted man could not but re-, 
call the horrible insinuations in the very face of which he ij^a 
married this woman and given her his honored name. 

Nevertheless he gathered her shrinking form closer in his 
arms as he replied, 

Never fear, my love. I am your champion for better and 
for worse, in life and death ! ’’ 

She reached up and kissed his lips, translating him to the 
seventh heaven of ecstasy, fool that he was to trust in any- 
thing so frail and fleeting as those two pink, velvety lips. 

Then Adelaide Balfour approached the subject which was 
nearest her guilty heart. 

‘‘ Gordon,’’ she said, the experience of this evening has 
taught me that I am utterly unstrung, nervous, and far from 
well.” 

You have over-exerted yourself,” he said sympathetically, 
‘‘ and need rest.” 

‘‘Yes, I need rest,” she almost sobbed. 

“ Well then, w^e will clo^ our doors to the world and live 
solely for ourselves. Will that suit you, dear ? ” 

“ But I require change of scene, air and entire rest,” she 
urged. 

“ You shall have all,” he cried ; “ where shall we go ? 
South, to Florida, or the Bermudas ” 

“No, I could not bear the journey.” 

“ Where then, my love } ” 

“ To your country-place on the Fludson.” 

“ To Riverdale ! ” he exclaimed in amazement. “ To River- 
dale, in the depths of the winter ! ” 

“ Why not ? 

“ We should be buried in snow ; besides, there is no 
society there at this season.” 

“ Did you not say we would close our doors to the world 
and live solely for ourselves ? ” she plead, 


THE HEIRESS OF AIMILLIOH 97 

Yes, but ’’ 

“ Do you think that our love for each other could be less 
in the open, health-giving country than it is amid the distrac- 
tion^ of the city ? she asked. 

“ No ! We will go to Riverdale since it is your wish. But 
when ? he asked. 

To-morrow. The sooner the better.’’ 

‘‘ So be it. I will go at once and make the necessary ar- 
rangements,” he said. 

When he- had left her Adelaide Balfour threw herself upon 
a couch and knotted her white hands in her yellow hair. 

Oh, God,” she moaned, “ what a life is this I lead ! Driven 
from pillar to post until I am w^eary of the struggle and would 
gladly lie down and seek the oblivion of death. But they 
shall not conquer quite so soon,” she cried, the old ring re- 
turning to her voice ; “ they will conquer some day, but not 
yet, not yet ! I have fought too hard a battle to yield the 
palih so easily. There may be oceans of tears and blood shed, 
but I wall wear the purples until they are fairly torn from my 
aching shoulders ! ” 

Prophetic words ! 

Meanwhile, Gordon Balfour, upon descending the stair- 
case, encountered his nephew, Lionel, in the hall below, the 
young man having just returned from his exciting adventures 
of the evening. 

A few commonplaces having been exchanged between them, 
Lionel said, “ Uncle, with your permission I will run up to 
Riverdale for a few days’ shooting.” 

‘‘ Happy thought ! ” exclaimed the gentleman cheerily ; we 
all go up there to-morrow for a change. Adelaide requires 
it. Have your trunk packed at once and you shall accom- 
pany us I And now, good-night. You look as if you required 
sleep.” 

Alone in his own chamber Lionel Balfour cried aloud. 
Merciful Heaven, am I forever doomed to the wiles of 
that terrible woman ? Oh, God, is there no way in which I 


98 


A COACHMAN^S LOVE; OR, 


can escape her ? I had thought to absent myself until the fa- 
tal spell was broken, but it is too late now. I cannot insult 
my uncle by refusing to go to Riverdale. The die is cast, 
and I must go, come what may ! ’’ 

Two days later the sun arose over the lawns, the gardens, 
and the roofs of Riverdale, shrouded in a glittering mantle 
of freshly-fallen snow. 

If the stately place was beautiful beneath the prodigal 
glories of summer, it was doubly grand when viewed amid the 
hoary splendor of winter. 

The entire household from Gramercy Park had moved up 
the river and were duly installed, every effort having been 
made to render the country-house comfortable and cheery. 

Always anxious far the health and happiness of his beau- 
tiful wife, Gordon Balfour could not but congratulate himself 
that he had yielded to her entreaties and made the change. 

Adelaide Balfour was a new woman in her voluntary seclu- 
sion, removed as she was one hundred miles from the dan- 
gers which threatened her in the city. 

Her horror and dread of LioneFs mysterious behavior were 
still potent upon her, but as the young gentleman studiously 
avoided her, and employed his time in hunting and reading^ 
she had begun to flatter herself that her suspicions of him 
were groundless. 

Upon this particular morning, clothed in a cloak lined 
with richest fur, a light cloud of delicate rose-tinted worsted 
upon her flaxen hair, the lady was slowly promenading up 
and down the marble terrace before the mansion, when her 
husband came to her from the direction of the stable-yards, 
followed by a strange man. 

“ My dear,’^ Gordon Balfour said, “ I have engaged a new 
coachman, a man who comes to me with the highest recom- 
mendations. He is here. Perhaps you have some orders to 
give him ; so I will leave him with you and go in to examine 
XXiy letters which have just come in.’^ 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION, 


99 


With a bright smile and nod, he* hastened away into the 
house, as Adelaide Balfour turned to scrutinize the face of 
the new candidate. 

It was a good, firm, resolute face that she saw before her, 
and she seemed satisfied with the general appearance of the 
man., 

“ You are the new coachman ? she asked. 

‘‘Yes, madam.’’ 

“ What is your name ? ” 

“ Eugene Clifford.” 

She paused an instant to consider whether she would ride or 
drive that morning, and in the pause the man advanced saying, 

“ I have been hoping to be engaged by you, madam.” 

“ Indeed ? Then I hope you will prove yourself worthy of 
our confidence.” 

“ I shall try to do as well as my predecessor did,” he said^ 
with peculiar significance ; “ do you remember him ? ” 

The lady arched her eyebrows haughtily as she replied, 

“ We have had many persons in the capacity of coachman ; 
to whom do you refer ? ” 

“ To one who was my dearest friend on earth. To a man 
whose service in your household demeaned him, for he was 
a gentleman born, if ever there was one. I refer to Oscar 
Cameron.” 

Adelaide Balfour did not start, nor did so much as an eye- 
lid quiver. 

The brilliant color merely faded slowly from her cheeks, 
leaving her ghastly pale. 

Eugene Clifford watched her narrowly, and thrilled beneath 
the fixed, vindictive stare she dealt him. 

If ever war to the knife was declared in stolid silence, it 
was then and there upon the terrace at Riverdale. 

“Myra was right. My^place is here^'' the young man 
thought ; “ I can serve my dead friend now as I could never 
serve him, though I had the detective ability of both conti- 
nents at my back. I am glad I came! 


100 


A COACHMAN^S LOVE ; ORy 


CHAPTER XVII. 

AN IMPORTANT COLLOQUY. 

Perhaps the most mystified person in the almost limitless 
circle of their acquaintance, at the sudden and unaccount- 
able departure of the Balfour family for the country in the 
very depths of a hard winter, was Mr. Howard Pelham. 

Strange and inscrutable as were the habits of this young 
gentleman, and mysterious as was the perfect knowledge he 
possessed of all that was said and done in the most secret 
chambers of the mansion in Gramercy Park, he found himself 
in a state of no small amazement upon the second night after 
the flight to Riverdale, as he paused for an instant opposite 
the princely residence and leaned upon the iron railings that 
surround the garden, which in midsummer seems such an 
oasis in the heart of the heated city, and gazed across the 
street at the house. 

Every shade was drawn, every blind closed, even the storm- 
doors concealed the inlaid bronze and oak of the splendid 
vestibule \ and not so much as a single ray of light illumined 
the grim facade. 

Even as he stood there, revolving in his mind whether death 
or a sudden hegira to Europe were the cause of what he saw^ 
the figure of a man, enveloped in a voluminous cloak of some 
dark material, his head and face shaded from observation by 
the leaf of a huge sombrero of felt, hastily crossed the square 
from the direction of Third Avenue, and with rapid steps ap- 
proached the tomb-like edifice. 

This stranger might have escaped the attention of the 
young gentleman where he stood in the dense shadow of an 
elm, had he not, when directly opposite the Balfour mansion, 
suddenly' produced a light bamboo cane and drawn it with a 
sharp clicking sound over the low iron railing before the area- 
entrance to the house. 

Ere Howard Pelham could become aware that this appar- 
ently careless act was in reality a signal of no slight impor- 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION. 


lOI 


tance, one of the wooden shutters in the basement of the 
mansion was opened quickly, and in the transitory gleam of 
gas-light which shone out from within appeared the chalky, 
colorless visage and sharp, black eyes of the footman, Rodney 
Denwood. 

Seeing the tall, dark figure in the mantle leaning over the 
railing, the fellow nodded, closed the shutter, and so disap- 
peared. 

A moment later there was the sound of a basement-door 
being cautiously but swiftly unbolted, and in answer to a 
whispered All right,’’ the man in the cloak glided silently 
down the area-steps and vanished. 

Then the door was closed, the bolts grated into place, and 
Mr. Howard Pelham found himself alone in the icy night 
with nobody and nothing to express his wonderment to save 
the elm-tree which had shielded him from observation. 

For some reason, which he was utterly at a loss to account 
for, he could not help associating the mysterious proceeding 
he had just witnessed with the weary vigil which he well knew 
Adelaide Vernon had kept on the night of the 20th of the 
last November. 

Upon cool reflection, the relation between two events so 
widely dissimilar might have struck him as not only ridicu- 
lous but utterly improbable ; to-night, however, his mind 
seemed peculiarly susceptible to influences, and as the mo- 
ments flew by he became overpowered with an irresistible 
desire to learn the purport of this suspicious meeting. 

From having been a frequent visitor upon Gordon Balfour 
both before and since his marriage, Pelham felt himself per- 
fectly ail fait with the ins and outs of the great house, so 
that he was the more confident that could he obtain access 
he could so secrete himself as to be an unseen auditor of 
all that was taking place within. 

To desire was to accomplish with the self-willed, determined 
fellow, and ere we could explain how quickly the feat was 
performed, he had passed to the rear of the house, scaled the 


102 


A CO A CHMAN^S LOVE; OR, 


wall by means of some over-hanging boughs of wistaria, and 
was kneeling before one of the casements which opened upon 
that rarely used garden-room where, on the night of the 
masked ball, Adelaide Balfour had been stricken insensible 
by a glimpse of the face of the supposed dead. 

There were no shutters here, merely the panes of glass 
and the silken draperies within debarred the outer world 
from the splendors of the closed mansion. 

With a tact that would have done credit to the most 
accomplished burglar, Howard Pelham pressed a ring, in 
which gleamed a costly diamond, upon the glass, and described 
four rectangular lines in the region of the bolt which secured 
the casement. 

A slight thrust with his finger and the square of glass fell 
in upon the velvet pile of the carpet without a sound. 

It was then scarcely the work of half-a-dozen second^ to 
open the window and glide silently into the room. 

It had been his intention to hasten across this apartment 
and discover the whereabouts of Denwood and his visitor by 
means of the hall. What was the young gentleman’s astonish- 
ment, then, to hear low voices as soon as he entered, and to 
find, from a ray of light that shone in through a door which 
had been left ajar into the garden-room, that the pair were 
in the adjoining apartment. It was the voice of Denwood 
which arrested Mr. Pelham’s attention, and he was saying, 

“ Drink hearty, Vasquez : you must be-chilled to the bone 
after your walk.” 

A momentary pause succeeded, during which Howard Pel- 
ham heard the clink of crystal glass and noticed the odor of 
fragrant Havana cigars upon the air. 

With cautious steps he crept to the door and peeped into 
the lighted room. 

At a table, upon which were a branch of candles, some 
decanters of wine and glasses, sat the footman, with his back 
towards the partially open door, while facing him was a 
Spaniard, with a lean, hungry, but haughtily-handsome face- 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION, 103 

which framed a pair of gleaming eyes that once seen were not 
easily to be forgotten. 

This foreigner was Celio Vasquez, whom Adelaide Balfour 
had encountered in Old NolFs den, two nights after the mys- 
terious disappearance of Oscar Cameron. 

He set his glass down, placed his cigar between his lips, 
removed it, and sent a series of fragrant smoke-rings to the 
very ceiling of the apartment. 

‘‘ Well,’’ he said with a drawl that was flavored with a strong 
foreign accent, “ what has broken loose now ? ” 

“ The person who payed for your little job on the night of 
the 2oth of last November is on the rampage again,” replied 
Denwood. 

‘‘ What about 1 ” 

‘‘ She swears she has been deceived, that Oscar Cameron 
is not deady 

‘‘ Can she prove what she says ? ” with an indifferent puff 
at his cigar. 

“ She holds that she can.” 

“How.>” 

‘‘ Because she saw Oscar Cameron in this very house not 
four nights ago.” 

Then she saw his ghost,” was the chilling rejoinder ; “ she 
saw the dead out of his grave.” 

But might you not have been mistaken in your man ? ” 
urged Denwood, leaning across the table. 

The Spaniard flashed a disdainful glance upon the speaker. 

“ What do you take me for ? a fool ? ” he demanded. I 
tell you now, and I tell you for the last time, that the man I 
met at the Fifth Avenue Hotel on the night of November 
20 was Oscar Cameron ; that the man who went with me to 
Old Noll’s grocery on the east side was Oscar Cameron, and 
that the man whose hot blood I washed from these hands 
that same night was Oscar Cameron’s. If you want proof of 
the truth of what I say, here it is ! ” 

Shuddering with a horror which he was powerless to 


104 


A CO A CUM AN LOVE ; OR, 


repress, Pelham ventured to lean forward and look in to 
discover what was passing between the two conspirators. 

He saw Vasquez take from his pocket a card and hand it 
to the footman. 

^‘You see there engraved the name of Oscar Cameron,’’ he 
added ; that card was taken from his pocket after — after 
he had no further use for it.” 

Here an awful but eloquent silence ensued. 

At last Denwood said, 

“ This card is not engraven, but written by Oscar Cameron’s 
own hand. I recognize it.” 

‘‘ Then I may flatter myself that you are satisfied that I 
have been up to no tricks, eh ? ” 

Yes ; I am satisfied ; and I think she will be.” 

Good.” 

The Spaniard filled his glass and drained it to the dregs. 

Chilled to the core by what he had overheard, Howard 
Pelham was about to beat a discreet retreat, when Denwood’s 
voice arrested him and chained him to the spot. 

I say, Vasquez,” he said ; what are you doing now ? ” 

“ Nothing.” 

‘‘ Not making a living then ? ” 

‘‘ Not enough to pay for my salt.” 

“Would you object to pocketing a cool four hundred a 
month ? ” •> 

“ Has your lady friend got some more butchering on 
hand ? ” the Spaniard asked with a laugh. 

“No. All you would have to do would be to take my 
place as footman ; I am to be steward of the estate in 
future.” 

“ Where am I to go ? ” 

“ To Riverdale on the Hudson.” 

“ In whose service ? ” 

“ The Hon. Gordon Balfour’s, though you would draw your 
extra funds from his fair wife. Do you accept the place ? ” 

Ere any reply could be vouchsafed to the reply, the win- 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLIOH 105 

dow of the garden-room slammed loudly in a sudden draught 
of air. 

The two men sprang to their feet with a wild curse. 

Pelham heard their outcry and the crash of the glass as 
the table was overturned, but with never a backward look 
he fled, and clearing the garden, he actually threw himself 
over the wall, falling heavily upon the outer side. 

Bruised and lamed as he was, he scarcely knew how he 
reached Third Avenue, and summoning a passing cab, ordered 
the driver to take him with all haste to a certain house in 
Little Twelfth Street. 

Arrived at the place, which both Rosalind Vernon and 
Lionel Balfour had every reason to remember to their dying 
day, Pelham let himself in with a latch-key, passed up the 
stairs, and throwing open the door of the back room upon 
the second floor, fell half-fainting upon the nearest chair. 

It was Myra Cameron who started up as he entered. 

The usual pallor of the poor girPs face had given place to 
a brilliant flush, and her dark eyes burned with an unwonted 
fire. 

‘‘ Mr. Pelham ! ” she gasped ; is it you ? Have you 
news ? ’’ 

The most important yet,’’ he replied breathlessly. 

“ So have I ! ” she exclaimed. 

You ? ” 

He glanced at her pityingly and shuddered. 

‘‘ Tell me what has brought you here in such haste ? ” she 
cried. 

He shook his head. 

“ Tell me first what information you have,” he said. 

She drew a letter from her boscan, unfolded it, and held it 
before his dilated eyes. 

“Good God ! ” he gasped in amazement; “when did you 
receive this ? What does it mean ? ” 


- io6 


A COACIIMAN^S LOVE; OK, 


CHAPTER XVIIL 

TRACES OF THE DEAD. 

‘‘ You ask me what this letter means ? ’’ cried Myra Cam- 
eron ; ‘‘ it means that this is one of the missing letters which 
Adelaide Balfour has offered ten thousand dollars to secure/’ 

“Well?” 

“ It means that it was my brother Oscar who has sent it 
to me ! ” 

“ What makes you think so ? ” Howard Pelham asked, 
with a sadly incredulous air. 

“ These lines written across the back of the sheet.” 

She turned the daintily written sheet round so that he 
could read the boldly peuned lines upon the reverse side. 

The words were these : 

“ Keep this until it is called for.” 

The young gentleman shook his head mournfully. 

“ Miss Cameron,” he said kindly, “ pray do not allow this 
•o mislead or deceive you.” 

“ Deceive me ! ” she cried, the bright fire of hope never 
for a moment dying in her bright black eyes ; “ deceive me ? 
I do not understand you, Mr. Pelham.” 

“ Be prepared for the worst, my poor girl,” he urged. 

“ I have nothing to fear, I know that my brother lives 1 ” 

“ Far better that you should never have received this letter, 
that you might have remained in your original belief. Your 
brother is dead, I know it for a fact ! ” 

She staggered slightly, and the bright light died out in 
her eyes with the flush from her cheeks. 

“ He is dead ! ” she breathed ; “ how do you know it for 
sure ? ” 

“ I have seen his assassin to-night, heard him confess his 
crime, and have learned where, in all probability, the body 
of your murdered brother lies. Oh, no, Miss Cameron, let 
us not yield to the cunning hoax of the enemy ; rather let 
us be firm in our resolution to avenge the dead.” 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLIOH 


107 


She had dropped upon a chair, panting heavily while he 
spoke, but when he ceased she sprang to her feet and grasp^ 
his arm. 

Mr. Pelham,’^ she gasped, ‘‘ I wish to see my brother’s 
body ! ” 

He drew shudderingly away from her, and blanched to the 
hue of death at her awful words. 

“ It is two months since he died,” he faltered ; ‘‘ the body 
would be unrecognizable.” 

‘‘ Nevertheless I, his sister, could recognize it.” 

‘‘ Would you not be satisfied if I saw it and saved you the 
pain and horror of the spectacle ? ” 

‘‘ No ! ” firmly. 

“ You will at least permit me to discover its whereabouts ? ” 
persisted Pelham. 

Certainly ; that you may do. But when you have found 
it, I wish to see it.” 

Here dead silence ensued between the pair, the young man 
having risen to his feet, while Myra had fallen upon a chair 
by the table, and was shading her bright, feverish eyes from 
the glare of the oil lamp. 

I do not see Clifford here to-night,” Pelham said at last. 
“Where is he?” 

“ Eugene has gone to Riverdale to be near the murderess,” 
Myra returned significantly. 

“ Indeed ? ” he exclaimed in surprise ; “ then our interests 
are well watched in that direction.” 

“ Well watched, have no fear ! ” 

He took his hat from the table and turned towards the 
door. 

Myra Cameron raised her weary, haggard face appealingly. 

“ Where are you going ? ” she demanded. 

“ I am going to find your brother’s body,” was tjie reply. 
“ It may be hours before I return, but you will not see me 
again until I can bring you positive proof that your brother 
has been foully dealt with,” 


io8 A CO A CHMAN^S LOVE ; OR, 

With these words he left her, and poor, faithful Myra sat 
beside the table, where the lamp burned with ever increasing 
dimness, until the faint light of the gray, wintry dawn peeped 
in at her over the crowded roofs, and told in its silent forci- 
ble way that another day of weary expectancy was before her. 

It was already nine o^clock upon the morning of which we 
write that Howard Pelham left the office of the chief of the 
detective police in Broadway and entered a waiting cab in 
company with one of the most accomplished officials in the 
city. 

The pair were driven through Twelfth Street to the East 
River, and there alighting, dismissed. the vehicle. 

Mr. Pelham,^’ the detective said, ere they set out in the 
direction of Old Noll’s grocery, let me urge you not to go to 
this place. It is notoriously one of the most infamous haunts 
in the city.” 

I have nothing to fear,” the young gentleman returned 
in a determined way ; ‘‘ pray let me not delay.” 

The officer shrugged his shoulders, and turning, uttered a 
shrill whistle. 

A sagacious-looking dog, who had followed the cab from 
Broadway, sprang at once to his side. 

Now we are ready,” he said. 

This morning hour had been wisely chosen for the visit, 
since it was judged that in all probability Old Noll would 
not be surrounded by his usual coterie of bloodthirsty ruffians 
and villains. 

And they had not miscalculated in this respect, for upon 
entering the dingy den the old reprobate was discovered alone 
behind his counter. 

Having assured himself at a glance that there was no like- 
lihood of there being any show of obstinate resistance, the 
officer proceeded to display a warrant, duly signed and 
sealed, to search the place. ' 

The effect of this move upon the old wretch beggars de- 
scription. 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION, i6g 

His withered features turned to a livid grayness, and his 
eyes and lips twitched until the two men grew dizzy with 
watching his terror. 

‘‘ This — I — we are honest folks here,’’ he stammered hor- 
ribly. 

‘‘We do not doubt it,” replied the detective with the slight- 
est possible wrinkle of a smile upon his stony face ; “ we are 
inspecting this part of the city with a view to improvements, 
that is all.” 

Partially quieted by this assurance, old Noll produced a 
bunch of keys. 

“ Turn your dog out,” he faltered ; “ I’ve got a lot of pet 
cats about the place.” 

“ Set your mind at rest on that head, my dear sir,” was 
the undeniably smiling rejoinder ; “ the dog can smell a rat 
Jong before he’d touch a cat.” 

. Leaving the guilty creature to digest this significant re- 
mark, the two men passed into that dark hallway behind the 
shop which not so very long ago had been trodden by the 
dainty feet of one of New York’s queens of society, the wife 
of the Hon. Gordon Balfour. 

When out of ear-shot of the proprietor of this delectable 
haunt, the officer laid his hand upon his companion’s arm. 

, “ Cats, indeed 1 ” he said derisively ; “ the old scoundrel is 
keener than I gave him credit for being. He knows, or at least 
suspects, what manner of dog it is we have here at our heels. 
You can believe it or not, sir, but it is I who tell you that 
this beast never yet went wrong when once he was put on 
the track of a violent deed, as you will see, perhaps.” 

With the animal close at their heels, sniffing here and there 
along the walls, they “entered the miserable boxes that opened 
off of the dark entry, and so passed on until they found them- 
selves in a small, square room, the extent of which was occu- 
pied by a bed, the hangings of which had once been white 
dimity, but which now were repulsively unsightly with an ac- 
cumulation of filth. 


tto A COACiiMAN^S LOV£; OR, 

The feeble light was admitted by a four-pane window, high 
up in the wall, before which hung a rag of dirty muslin, soiled 
with dust and cobwebs. 

Howard Pelham recoiled instinctively as the detective 
threw open the door of this chamber of horrors, but the next 
instant he thrust the man out of his way in his anxiety to en- 
ter. 

With a low, sharp growl, the dog had bounded under the 
bed and had begun scratching frantically at the bare boards 
of the floor. 

In awful silence the two men removed the bed and discov- 
ered a couple of loose planks, which the oflicer raised without 
difficulty, thus bringing to view an oblong square hole about 
the length and breadth of a man’s body. 

In spite of the impenetrable darkness that filled this pesti- 
lential cavity, they both saw the ghastliness of a heavy layer 
of quick-lime, while the deathly odor of the same filled their 
nostrils to suffocation. 

Here, then, the murderer had concealed the traces of his 
crime, and here the victim lay, decomposed by the powerful 
chemical past all hope of identification ! 

Howard Pelham staggered back, sickened, faint, disheart- 
ened. 

‘‘ Oh, God,” he cried, ‘‘ and this was the end of a noble fel- 
low, whose only sin was loving above his station ! ” 

The officer looked at him as he dropped the planks into 
their places. 

Do not be discouraged, sir,” he said. 

How can I help being so ? ” exclaimed Pelham in de- 
spair. “ What have we gained by coming here ? We must have 
proof of the guilt of this woman whose hands are red with in- 
nocent blood ! What proof have we ? And the law will rec- 
ognize nothing but positive proof ! She defies us still and 
laughs at us in her security ! ” 

“ He laughs best, you know, who laughs last!^^ 

cried the young man desperately, ‘^andl will be 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION. 


Ill 


the last to laugh. I know who her accomplices are. I am 
wealthy ; they are two venal rascals of the worst description. 
Money shall win me victory where»the hounds of justice have 
failed. With God's help I shall yet gain the day ! " 


CHAPTER XIX. 

UNDER ONE ROOF. 

At Riverdale, life was progressing with that wonderful sys- 
tem and order which are ever the result of numerous and 
practised servants. 

Yet, in spite of the splendid ease and comfort which reigned 
throughout the princely mansion, the household was neither 
a happy nor a united one. 

Rosalind Vernon kept very much to her own apartments 
and avoided company ; Lionel was scarcely ever at home 
from rides and hunting, while the beautiful mistress of the 
place had given up her promenades upon the marble terrace, 
and could never be induced to drive since the advent of the 
new coachman ; her excuse was ever that it was either too 
cold for her, or that she was suffering from a severe head- 
ache. . 

In the midst of all these antagonistic elements, Gordon 
Balfour stood, utterly at a loss to account for the singular 
change which had come over his family. 

Thus matters stood at the close of the first week at River 
dale. 

It was just at this time that Rodney Denwood, who had 
been sent to New York by order of his mistress, returned 
with the new footman, in the person of Celio Vasquez, the 
Spaniard. 

It was a beautifully mild evening for the middle of Januar}^, 
and for the first time in several days Adelaide Balfour had 
ventured out upon the terrace with a scarf of some wondrous 
Oriental embroidery wound abovft her head and shoulders. 

As she stood there in the mellow twilight with the flush of 


II2 


A COACI/MAJV’S LOVE; OR, 


departing day lending a delicate shell-tint to her pale face, 
Gordon Balfour believed he had never seen her so surpass- 
ingly beautiful, and told himself he had never loved her so 
passionately. , 

Little did he dream as he stood gazing upon her from his 
favorite window in the library that this immaculate being, this 
angel, as he vainly pictured her, was saying to herself, 

“ The train must be in by this time. In a few minutes 
Denwood will be here with the man of all others whose lips 
I would seal with gold, and whom I would ever keep under my 
special eye. With them both beside me what have I to 
fear ? 

She smiled darkly as the sound of sleigh-bells smote the 
quiet air, and up the avenue came a vehicle drawn by a pair 
of swift horses. 

In her anxiety to be the first to see whether the ex-foot- 
man had faithfully fulfilled his mission, she hastened to the 
broad marble steps that led down to the mounting-block 
upon the edge of the driveway. 

As she reached the spot, the sleigh drew up and the fig- 
ure of a man sprang out and ascended the steps, hat in hand, 
through the dusky light. 

Adelaide Balfour had expected two men, or Denwood at 
least ; consequently it was with the utmost difficulty that she 
suppressed a cry of chagrin and alarm as she recognized the 
features of the man she had scouted and insulted, the feat- 
ures of Howard Pelham. 

I was visiting in the neighborhood,^’ the young man ex- 
plained, ‘‘ and, hearing you were near by, I could not resist 
the temptation of calling on the way back, and paying my re- 
spects.” 

“You shall do more than pay a passing tribute, my dear 
boy,” exclaimed a cheery voice close behind them ; “ now 
that you are here you shall not escape us so easily as you 
think.” 

It was the master of Riverdale who uttered these words of 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION, 


welcome, and Adelaide Balfour listened to them, speeo 
with annoyance and a nameless dread. \ 

Ere they could enter the house, they were arrested by a 
second jingling of bells, and upon turning, discovered Rod- 
ney t)enwood descending from the family equipage, which 
was driven by the new coachman, Eugene Clifford, followed 
by the Spaniard who had been engaged to fill the vacant 
post of footman. 

A glance of intense significance shot between the lady and 
Denwood, nor was she so absorbed that she failed to note 
the look of defiant recognition which was exchanged by 
Howard Pelham and Clifford, the coachman. 

This dramatic incident occupied scarcely more than a sec- 
ond of time, yet its importance was in no way lessened by 
this circumstance. 

Here were five desperate conspirators, arrayed against 
each other, three against two, and in their midst stood the 
unconscious victim upon whose innocent, noble head was 
destined to fall the weight of their combined efforts to ruin 
each other. 

Little did Gordon Balfour fancy, as he sat at the head of 
his sumptuous dinner-table that night, with his beautiful wife 
opposite him and his guest on his right hand, while Den- 
wood and Celio Vasquez lingered about them supplying their 
wants, and Eugene Clifford knelt before the great fire-place 
to adjust the huge log he had just brought in, that a deadly 
warfare had been declared, which threatened to bring the 
temple of his peace and happiness in ashes about his feet. 

That evening witnessed Adelaide Balfour’s last grand ef- 
fort to be herself, as she had been before the curse of Cain 
cast its shadow upon her faultless brow ; she was never so 
brilliant again. 

Side by side in a distant part of the spacious drawing- 
room, Rosalind Vernon and Lionel watched her as she con- 
versed with her husband and Pelham in a sort of mute won- 
der, though with very different emotions. 


A COACHMAN'S LOVE ; OE, 


114 

When at last they separated for the night and were about 
to seek their respective chambers, Pelham expressed a wish 
to be furnished with a cigar, that he might smoke it upon the 
terrace. 

His request was smilingly acceded to, and the young man 
went out into the star-lit night. 

Quite as he had expected, no sooner had his feet touched 
the terrace than a snowball was discharged by an unseen 
hand in the umbrage of some neighboring evergreens and 
rolled directly across the tessellated marbles to where he stood. 

Advancing quickly in the direction whence the missile had 
been sent, he leaned over the balustrade and whispered, 

‘‘ Is that you, Clifford ? ” 

For answer a strong hand was stretched up out of the 
darkness and gripped that of the young gentleman firmly. 

A moment later the pair met upon the steps leading down 
to the snow-clad lawn. 

‘^What success ? ’’ was Pelham’s first question. 

Nothing special to report as yet,” was Eugene Clifford’s 
reply. 

‘‘ Is your identity with the league suspected, do you think ? ” 
Only by the fallen angel herself, and she dares not raise 
her little finger against me. What news do you bring ? ” 

‘‘ Myra Cameron is here.” 

‘‘ Myra, here ! Where ? ” was the excited query. 

“At the house of the village-constable. You can see her 
to-night if you like. But stay,” as the fond lover was about 
to dart away down the avenue, “ keep yourself on hand in case 
you’re needed. We may strike the blow at any momeniE 

They parted then, and casting away his undiscussed cigar, 
Howard Pelham entered the house and went directly to his own 
apartment. 

Ignorant enough was he of the fact that his interview with 
the faithful friend of Oscar Cameron had been witnessed from 
the window of a darkened room by Adelaide Balfour and her 
henchman, Denwood. They had witnessed the interview, but 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION, 115 

of course had noi heard one word of all that had passed be- 
tween the two men. 

This fact led the lady to turn to her accomplice anxiously : 

Why are you not out there listening to what is being said 
she breathed wildly. 

Madam could not expect me to be in two places at once” 
whined the sycophant. “ I could not warn her that this meet- 
ing was taking place and be there too.’’ 

‘‘ Then why did you not send Vasquez ? ” 

Instead of replying, Denwood opened a door of the apart- 
ment which led out upon an unfrequented staircase, in an- 
swer to a low, cautious knock, and admitted the Spaniard. 

Well, were you there ? ” he demanded. 

‘‘ Yes.” 

And what did you hear ? ” 

Nothing. They spoke very low, and besides I don’t un- 
derstand the English well. You’ll have to do that kind of 
work yourself,” he said, ‘‘ I don’t care about it.” 

The defiant pride in the man’s voice filled the guilty woman 
with a nameless terror, and shudderingly she raised a heavy 
portiere and glided away into her own apartment. 

‘‘ I fear him ! ” she breathed as she sank into a chair before 
the glowing embers upon the inlaid hearth. Oh, God, I fear 
that man, and would give five years of my life if he had never 
crossed the threshold of this house ! ” 

Meanwhile, a solitary light in all that stately mansion burned 
in the library, where before his desk, his massive head sunken 
upon his folded arms, Gordon Balfour sat the long night 
through, a letter crushed in his clenched hand. 

At last, when the gray dawn looked in upon him and the 
light of the night-lamp expired in its exhausted socket, he 
raised his pallid, haggard face. 

It is the third warning from that veiled unknown,” he 
moaned ; “ O God ! must I obey the summons } Must I go to 
learn my fate ? Oh, Adelaide, my wife, my wife ! May Heaven 
have mercy upon me now ! ” 


ii6 


A COACmiAN^S LOVE ; OR, 


CHAPTER XX. 

SISTER AND SWEETHEART. 

The morning succeeding Howard Pelham’s arrival at Riv- 
erdale dawned in unexampled splendor. 

Woods, meadows, lawns and gardens were shrouded in a 
sheet of spotless snow ; even the great evergreens about the 
mansion were hung with massive wreaths of frosty white- 
ness. 

Within the house, the splendid apartments were filled with 
genial sunshine, fragrant exotics shed their luscious perfumes 
upon the air, w^hile a delightful warmth and comfort pervaded 
the scene. 

If people who could command such a life as this were unable 
to enjoy it, where in this vale of tears we call the world could 
any be found so dead to gratitude as to be ignorant of the 
blessings which a bountiful Providence had showered upon 
them ? 

And yet the mistress of all this luxury and splendor would 
have gladly exchanged her joyless lot with the poorest cot- 
tager who dwelt within sight of her princely residence. 

Adelaide Balfour had passed a night of horror, haunted in 
her waking hours by terror and remorse, and agonized when 
she slept by nightmares in which the gallows-tree, blood, and 
the face of a dead man she knew but too well were mingled 
in horrible, ghastly confusion. 

Yet, such was her supreme command of herself, that she ap- 
peared at the appointed hour in the breakfast-room to join the 
family, arrayed in a splendid costume of flowered silk and 
sealskin, with an artful touch of rouge upon either cheek to 
rob them of their tell-tale pallor. 

As she entered the room there was no one there, and the 
mechanical smile died out of her blue eyes, leaving the hunted, 
scared look in its place. 

Involuntarily she drew back her chair at the head of the ta- 
ble, and sank into it ; as she did so, her restless eyes fell 


THE HEIRESS OP A MILLIOH, 1 17 

upon a spray of spotless white camelias, emblems of death, 
lying upon her plate. 

Unconsciously she raised the queenly blossoms to her nos- 
trils, and at the same instant started with a stifled cry. 

Scentless as these flowers always are, these^2X she held be- 
tween her trembling fingers had a nauseous, fetid odor hid- 
den away among their spotless petals, that turned her sick 
and faint. 

With a cry she sprang to her feet and flung the spray across 
the room on to the bed of glowing embers in the wide fire- 
place. 

With irresistible curiosity she watched the tiny tongues of 
flame leap up to them, saw the snowy blossoms crumple and 
turn black, and with a shudder of horror noticed that the 
charring remains emitted a volume of strangely dense, brown 
smoke, which, rolling upward, was lost in the capacious chim- 
ney. 

“ Either that was an insult to me,^’ she gasped audibly, or 
those flowers were poisoned ! ’’ 

“ What ! high tragedy so early in the morning, Mrs. Bal- 
four ? ’’ said a voice close behind her. 

Adelaide Balfour turned with a violent start, to confront 
Howard Pelham where he stood upon the hearth-rug at her 
side, that bland smile of his wreathing his handsome face, one 
delicate white hand stroking his blonde mustache. 

The look her eyes dealt him was one of condigned hatred, 
though her lips smiled as she said, 

‘‘ Is it you, Mr. Pelham ? I thought fashionable men like 
you breakfasted at noon-day.’’ 

“ Not when they have such unusual incentives to get up 
with the lark,” was the smiling reply. 

Disregarding the intended compliment, Mrs. Balfour said, 

‘‘ I was not expecting to see you, and you startled me.” 

“ Really, I beg your pardon.” 

‘‘ Have you been up long ? ” 

“ For hours.” 


Ii5 A COACHMAN'S LOVE ; OR, 

‘‘ And have you already visited our splendid conservatory ? 

I have/’ 

The show of camelias, especially the white variety, is 
very fine, is it not ? ” 

“ Exceptionally so ; I think I never remember to have seen 
such a display.” 

This brief conversation was exchanged with the utmost ra- 
pidity and apparent suavity ; no chance observer would have 
dreamed that every word was laden with its freight of enven- 
omed cunning. 

As she turned away from the young gentleman to greet 
Rosalind and Lionel, who entered at that moment, Adelaide 
Balfour said to herself, He is responsible for those came- 
lias, and shall answer some day for the affront,” while Pel- 
ham thought, She is a match for the most artful intriguer who 
ever lived ; she’s as game as Machiavel himself i ” 

Hardly had the coffee been served, when it was noticed 
that the master of the house was missing, and evidently had 
no intention of joining the family at the morning meal. 

No, Mrs. Balfour had not seen him ; she had supposed he 
had left his chamber early, as was his custom. 

Rodney Denwood was summoned, and reported that his 
master was ill and had not left his bed, though he had given 
express orders that the family should not be disturbed on 
his behalf. 

A glance of intelligent inquiry shot from Adelaide Balfour’s 
eyes, but Denwood’s face remained so utterly expressionless 
that she very quickly divined that he knew nothing of her hus- 
band’s unusual conduct. 

With a very pretty assumption of anxiety, she rose from 
the table and begged the party to excuse her, and as she did 
not return the repast was finished in comparative silence. 

Quite in accordance with his mysterious habits of late, Li- 
onel at once absented himself, leaving Rosalind and Pelham 
to wander through the splendid suite of rooms together. 

It was actually the first time that Rosalind had been left 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION. 119 

alone with the man who she knew full well had sued for her 
hand in marriage ; naturally therefore the poor girl was un- 
der a painful restraint in his company. 

Noting her inquietude, Howard Pelham said with consum- 
mate tact, 

I have rather a startling piece of news to impart to you. 
Miss Rosalind.” 

She raised her lovely, suffering eyes to his face in mute in- 
quiry. 

I want you to congratulate me upon my engagement,” 
he said. 

‘‘ Your engagement ! ” Rosalind echoed in a relieved tone, 
while her sweet face brightened. “ I am very glad to hear it, 
Mr. Pelham.” 

“ Doubtless,” he rejoined, just a suggestion of the old sneer 
in his voice, which, however, quickly vanished as he added 
kindly, “ Yes, I am engaged, and happily too. I thank you 
for your sympathy.” 

She extended her hand and he clasped it warmly. 

I congratulate you,”' she said ; who is the happy 
lady ? ” 

“ That is my secret. I would like your opinion of my 
choice before entering into particulars.” 

‘‘ I should be most happy to give it, but how can I ? ” Ros- 
alind asked with a smile. 

“ Easily enough.” 

‘‘ Tell me how.” 

“ Ten minutes’ walk will bring us to her. Will you call 
upon her this morning '> ” 

With all my heart ! ” 

Then get your wraps and we will run down to the village. 
You don’t object to snow? ” 

Not in the least.” 

‘‘ Good, then ; I will expect you in five minutes.” 

As luck would have it, a hearty breakfast claimed the ubiq- 
uitous Denwood’s attention at that time, consequently he 


120 A C0AC//A/AJV’S LOVE ; OR, . 

was not on the watch to see the pair leave the house and walk 
briskly down the avenue. 

In less than fifteen minutes they paused before a neat cot- 
tage in the centre of the little village, and Pelham motioned 
Rosalind to precede him up the cleanly swept path to the 
door. 

In a cheery sitting-room they found a young girl sitting, 
who, as they entered, arose to greet them. 

‘‘ Miss Vernon,” Pelham said, permit me to present my 
fiancee'' 

He did not mention any name, and Rosalind glanced keenly 
at the face before her with a strange thrill. 

The face was stern and pallid with long suffering, with 
deep-set black eyes that had a restless gleam in their dark 
depths, and the countenance was set off by densely black hair 
and a dress of the same sombre hue. 

It was a face which once seen was never to be forgotten ; 
the face of an avenging Nemesis. 

Spellbound, thrilling with a mad longing she was at a loss 
to account for, Rosalind gazed at that face so steadily that 
she was wholly unaware that Pelham had silently left the 
room and closed the door upon them. 

As the silent figure did not move nor speak, the girl lost 
all command of herself, and advancing a step, cried in a sti- 
fled voice. 

Who are you ? ” 

Did you never see me before } " inquired the dark figure 
in a low, melodious tone. 

Never ! 

Whom do I resemble ? ” 

One whom I have not seen in many a long month ! One 
whom I love as I can never love another ! ” 

I had a brother who ” the figure began, when Rosalind 

interrupted her with a wild cry. 

“ Oh, Heaven, who are you ? ” 

I am Myra Cameron ! ” 


THE HEIRESS OE A MILLION. 


121 


Oscar’s sister, and mine ! ” 

And in a tempest of weeping, she threw herself upon the 
breast of her whose face wore the lineaments of the man she 
had loved and lost. 

Myra Cameron did not weep, though she did not disturb 
the girl’s paroxysm until the storm was passed, and then she 
said, 

‘‘You must not call me sister. Miss Vernon; I am sorry, 
but I do not merit the name.” 

Rosalind stared in a bewildered way. 

“ I love your brother, and would have been his happy wife,” 
she faltered ; “ why then would you not be my sister 'i ” 

Myra Cameron shuddered. 

“ Seeing you,” she said, “ I could almost regret the step I 
am taking; but it is too late now, even if I would retract.” 

“ I do not understand you.” 

She laid one strong, white hand upon Rosalind’s arm as 
she said, 

“ Suppose I were to blast your peace of mind, drag the 
name your father bore down to the dust, even send your 
mother to the gallows ! What then ? — Would you call me 
sister then ? ” 

“ My God ! what do you mean } ” gasped the terrified 
girl. 

“Just what I say! If the mark of the hangman’s noose 
were black upon your dead mother’s throat, and I had been 
the cause of it, would you call me sister then ? ” 

Rosalind recoiled, horror-stricken, to the door. 

“ Speak before you go"*! ” cried Myra Cameron ; “ would 
you call me sister then ? ” 

“No, I would not 1 Let me go ; I am afraid of 
you ! ” 

“Yes, go ! I do not wish to keep you, for I know 7tow that 
you did ?iot love my brother 1 ” 

Out into the sunshine Rosalind fled, down the swept walk, 
and homeward over the snow-bound road. 


122 


A COACBMAA^S LOVE; OR, 


“ She is mad, she is mad ! ’’ she kept saying to herself as 
she ran ; but she is Oscar’s sister all the same 1 Oh, Heav- 
ven direct me ! What ought I to do ? ” 


CHAPTER XXL 

‘‘ IS THIS THE HAND OF PROVIDENCE ? ” 

Tucked away under his pillow, out of harm’s way and the 
possibility of being discovered by prying eyes, lay the cruel 
note which had been crushed in the clenched hand of the 
master of Riverdale all through the dreary watches of the 
preceding night, when he had sat in the library with his head 
bowed upon his folded arms. 

When he rose in the cold, gray dawn and went up to his 
own chamber, that the servants might not surprise him in his 
anguish and wonderingly talk about him, he missed the envel- 
ope in which the missive had been enclosed. Still, that did 
not trouble him ; after all, it was but a simple wrapper with 
his name inscribed upon it in a bold hand. 

The written words, which had brought all the old horror of 
his life back upon him in full force, were enough ; he cared 
for nothing more ; but they had burned themselves into the 
tablets of his memory, and he slowly repeated them, sylla- 
ble by syllable, as he lay there in the soft light of the morning* 

‘‘When an invitation to dinner is received, do you decline 
it ; but see to it that your wife accepts and goes. That same 
evening, at eleven o’clock, present yourself at the untenanted 
cottage, on the Campton estate, if you would satisfy yourself 
as to the guilt or innocence of the woman you love. Be 
punctual to the hour, neither later »or earlier.” 

Such was the anonymous message he had received, indited 
in the bold, mysterious hand he knew so well. 

Last night he had been ready to believe in any dreadful 
suspicion ; now, however, with the invigorating sunshine flood- 
ing his chamber, he endeavored to ‘persuade himself that it 
was some malicious hoax again, and so well did he succeed, 
that he found himself saying^ 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLIOJST, 


123 


“ No invitation to a dinner has been received, and none is 
likely to be issued, since all of our neighbors in the vicinity 
are passing the winter in town ; besides, the Camptons are in 
Europe and their place is closed.’^ 

Hugging this vain hope, he gradually fell into a drowsy 
state from sheer exhaustion, from which he was at length 
aroused by a light rap upon the door. 

Supposing it to be one of the servants, and not wishing to 
be disturbed, he made no reply ; but it was evident that the 
intruder had no idea of being thus unceremoniously dismissed, 
since a moment later the door was cautiously opened and a 
figure entered the shaded room, the figure of a woman, and 
that woman his wife, Adelaide. 

Gordon Balfour closed his eyes firmly, and with a desperate 
effort simulated the even breathing of one in a heavy 
sleep. 

He was not sufficiently himself to meet her yet ; he dared 
not trust himself in her presence, freighted as he was with his 
fearful secret, lest she should divine it. 

No, he must gain a few hours of repose before facing this 
siren whom he loved so wildly, so desperately. 

He heard the silken rustle of her trailing robe as she crossed 
the apartment, and when it ceased he knew, he felt that her 
heavenly blue eyes were resting upon him. 

Presently he started as her cool, soothing hand was laid 
upon his fevered brow, and later it was only by a violent 
struggle that he prevented himself from crying out with ecstasy 
and clasping her in his arms as her warm lips brushed his own. 

‘‘ How she loves me ! ’’ he thought in a transport, all his 
dark suspicions of a moment before flung to the winds. 

Yes, in that minute the unhappy woman did love the noble 
man who worshipped her, and she would have given ten years 
of her life then and there to have been worthy of his love. 

With eyes that were tearless, but bright with an unutterable 
misery, Adelaide Balfour left her husband^s chamber as noise- 
lessly as she had entered it, nor did she see him again until, 


124 


A COACHMAN^S LOF£; OR, 


as the noon-tide bells were ringing over the broad Hudson, 
he came to her where she sat alone in her boudoir. 

There was a smile upon his handsome face, a smile of 
perfect confidence and love, the brighter perhaps because that 
anonymous missive lay in ashes upon the marble hearth in his 
bedroom. 

He seated himself beside her upon an Oriental divan, over 
which was cast a robe wherein gold threads were deftly blended 
with silken cords of every hue, and clasped her small, white 
hands in his, while her lovely eyes smiled their deadly fascina- 
tion up at him. 

She was glad that she had a bit of fashionable gossip to 
tell him, so that they need not speak of their love that morning* 
Well, Gordon,’’ she said bewitchingly, “ it appears from 
intelligence I have just received that we are likely not to be 
so lonely after all in our voluntary exile.” 

‘‘ Have I complained of loneliness ? ” he inquired with a 
laugh. 

‘‘ No ; but I am sure you will be pleased to hear whom we 
are to have as neighbors for the remainder of the winter.” 

Of course ; whom do you mean ? ” 

‘‘The Camptons; they arrived from Europe day before 
yesterday.” 

She was looking through the little pile of notes and cards 
in her lap which the morning’s mail had brought her, and 
so failed to notice his dilated eyes, compressed lips, and the 
look’ of white agony that settled upon his countenance. 

“ The Camptons ! — home again ! ” he faltered. 

“ Yes, dear ; and I must say I am delighted to hear it, for 
I admire them more than I do most people. See, here is a 
note written by Pauline this very morning and sent over 
post-haste by the footman ! ” 

He leaned over her fair, bowed head and strove to read 
the words that were inscribed upon the dainty, scented sheet, 
but he could no more see in that moment of agony than if 
he had been stone-blind. 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION. / 

/ ^^27 

What does she say ? he gasped hoarsely. / 

‘‘ She bids us, under penalty of forever forfeitin/ 
and esteem, to come to dinner to-night.’’ 

To-night ! My God ! so soon ! ” 

It was a cry of real anguisli. 

Adelaide Balfour cast the letters from her and sprang to 
her feet. 

Gordon ! Husband ! What ails you ? Merciful Heaven, 
how pale you are 1 ” 

I am sick, Adelaide ! Sick, sick ! ” he groaned. 

She was all concern in an instant, and flew to an etagere 
fpr her vinaigrette and cologne ; but when she returned, he 
waved her back with a feeble smile. 

I do not require them, thanks,” he murmured ; I be- 
lieve I am not quite myself this morning ; I slept miserably 
last night ; perhaps a turn on the terrace in the fresh air will 
do me good.” 

He struggled to his feet as he spoke and left her with a 
pleasant nod, though he did not kiss her as was his wont. 

• Leaning heavily upon the balustrade, like a man in the full 
tide of life and strength suddenly stricken with decrepit age, 
he slowly descended the polished staircase, saying to himself 
as he went. 

Is this the hand of Providence ? God help me to under- 
stand it all ; grant me light to see the path of duty ! ” 

Heaven only knows what confirmation of his worst sus- 
picions he might have received had he entered the library 
he passed it, instead of going directly out upon the sunny 
terrace. 

Just returned from her strange adventure in the village, 
Rosalind stood beside the massive writing-desk, her staring 
eyes riveted upon the torn envelope which she had picked up 
from the floor and now held in her outstretched hand. 

No need to ask whether she recognized the bold pen which 
had inscribed the name of Gordon Balfour thereon ; no need 
to wonder that she started violently, and with difficulty sup- 


A CO A CUMAJTS L O FE ; OE, 


pressed a cry, when she saw the black seal with the impress 
of a death^s head on the reverse side. 

So, then, this mysterious band have attacked the 

astonished girl murmured. ‘‘ What ought I to do ? Go to him 
and tell him all I know ? ” 

At that moment, the object of her thoughts passed the 
window upon the terrace. She sprang towards the casement 
with the intention of calling to him, when she saw Howard 
Pelham mount the steps from the avenue and join the gen- 
tleman. 

Of course she could not speak to him now, and so the 
opportunity escaped her. 

At the regular lunch hour that day Adelaide Balfour and 
Howard Pelham met alone. Rosalind had complained of a 
headache and was lying down, Lionel had gone hunting, and 
Gordon Balfour was out riding, to drive away his enemy, the 
gout, as he said. 

For some reason, best known to the mistress of the house, 
Rodney Denwood took Vasquez’s place as footman, and con- 
sequently the conversation was limited to commonplaces and 
platitudes, since the watchful henchman never once left the 
room. 

During the repast Adelaide Balfour passed the compliment 
upon her guest of inviting him to accompany her husband 
and herself to the Campton dinner party. 

She was both startled and annoyed at the peculiarly signifi- 
cant smile with which Pelham declined the honor, excusing 
himself upon the plea that he should be glad to avail himself 
of an evening’s reading in the library. 

From their leaving the table until it would be time to set 
out for the neighboring estate could not have been more than 
two hours, and these Mrs. Balfour easily disposed of at her 
elaborate toilet. 

It was four o’clock, and already the gathering dusk filled 
the spacious apartments of Riverdale as the lady left the 
hands of her maid and glided like a vision of beauty down to 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION, , 127 

the dim library, where she knew full well her husband was 
sitting. 

No wonder Gordon Balfour started to his feet as she 
approached him. 

Perhaps never in all her life had Adelaide Balfour been so 
entrancingly beautiful. 

She wore a court-train of richest peach-bloom velvet over 
a skirt of faintly tinted violet satin, magnificent pearls 
gleamed upon her swan-like throat, upon her arms and in her 
ears, while her amber hair was crested with a wreath of deli- 
cate pink azaleas. 

It was the costume and the presence of a princess of the 
blood royal. 

Midway across the Persian rug she paused in surprise. 

Why, Gordon ! ” she exclaimed. Not yet dressed ? 
And the carriage at the door 1 ’’ 

He came towards her, his hands clasped convulsively be- 
hind his back. 

“You must make some excuse for me, Adelaide,’’ he said. 
“ I do not feel in the mood for going.” 

“ If you are ill, I will remain at home, Gordon,” she said. 

“ Not for worlds I ” he exclaimed ; “ I am not ill, but stupid, 
I may lo*ok in this evening.” 

“ Will you promise ? ” 

“ No ; let me surprise you.” 

“ As you will, dear,” with a smile ; “ now, how do I look \ ’’ 

“ Like an empress ! ” 

“ With but one subject, and that one a world in himself ! ” 
she murmured. 

She reached up and kissed his lips, and he forced a laugh 
to conceal the shudder that rent his strong frame. 

Was it a premonition of approaching evil ? 

Was that kiss destined to be the last ? 

Then she rustled away and he saw her safely into the car- 
riage, and groaned aloud that he could not banish the be- 
witching smile she had cast upon him as she drove away. 


128 


A COACHMAN'S LOVE; OR, 


As he returned to the spacious hall, his eyes rested upon 
the dial of an antique clock ; it pointed to the half hour after 
four. 

Six and a half mortal hours to wait before I can learn 
my fate ! he breathed ; “ six and a half hours ! ‘ Be punct- 

ual to the hour, neither later nor earlier,^ the note said 
Well, so be it ! I will be punctual 1 ” 


CHAPTER XXIL 

GUILTY, OR NOT GUILTY ? 

At precisely the half hour after ten that same evening a side 
door of the mansion at Riverdale closed cautiously and the 
figure of a man, wrapped in a dark cloak and slouched hat, 
crept stealthily out into the night, casting fitful glances 
back at the house, as though fearful of being observed. 

The man who in this thief-like fashion stole down the 
steps and hurried away, keeping ever in the shadow of the 
trees, was Gordon Balfour himself, and he was going to the 
mysterious rendezzwus to learn the secret of his wife’s past. 

How he had managed to kill the six weary hours between 
his wife’s departure for the Campton dinner-party and the 
time when it would be necessary for him to set olU for the 
untenanted cottage whither he had been bidden to present 
himself, he scarcely knew. 

One thing only he was certain of, and that was that he had 
not left the library in all the evening, and his seclusion had 
not been intruded upon by any of the family who remained 
at home. 

Probably he might have wondered why Howard Pelham 
had not come in for a book or two, had he heard that young 
gentleman inform his fair hostess that he wished to pass his 
evening in reading. 

But no author claimed Pelham’s attention that night, as 
will subsequently be shown. 

As nearly as Mr. Balfour could calculate, it would take him 
at least twenty minutes of sharp walking to reach the gates 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION. 


129 


of the Campton estate, and he was quite sure he should be 
glad of the remaining ten minutes in which to find the un- 
tenanted cottage, uncertain as he was as to its exact situa- 
tion. 

Nor had he made a false estimate, since as he passed 
through the shadow cast by the massive stone pillars and 
iron gates that guarded the avenue of his wealthy neighbors, 
he saw by the frosty star light that the hands of his watch 
pointed to twelve minutes before the appointed hour. 

Scarcely had he replaced the costly time-piece in his pocket 
when his ear caught the sound of rapid footsteps crunching 
the frozen snow at a few paces behind him. Quickly he 
turned to confront the figure of a man, who, like himself, was 
muffled past all chance of recognition. 

A rapid stride or two brought the stranger to the gentle- 
man’s side. 

“ Is this Mr. Balfour ? ” he asked, in a voice which some- 
how or other sounded strangely familiar. 

“Yes, I am Gordon Balfour,” was the haughty reply. 

“ You are in good time.” 

“ I intended to be.” 

“ If you will follow me, sir,” said the stranger deferentially, 
“ I shall be glad to save you unnecessary walking by leading 
you directly to the place you are in search of.” 

Gordon Balfour hesitated. 

“ Allow me to inform you, for your own benefit as well as 
that of your confederates, that I am fully armed, and that it 
will go hard with any one of you who attempts to deal in an 
underhanded way with me ! ” 

Something like a suppressed laugh escaped the heavy 
muffler that concealed the stranger’s face, as he replied, 

“ You have trusted us twice already and each time have 
suffered no injury. However, if you wish to turn back even 
now, you are' at liberty to do so.” 

“ No ; I am ready to follow you. Lead on ! ” 

Thus enjoined, the man struck off from the main avenue 


130 


A COACBMAN^S LOVE ; OR, 


by a path which led in the rear of the stables, where hinder- 
ance of any kind was most improbable. 

In the distance, across the snow-sheeted lawn, Balfour 
saw the lights gleaming in the windows of the villa where 
the woman he loved to idolatry at present was, and he could 
not repress a sensation of shame and indignation against 
himself at the way in which he was going about to encourage 
the vile calumniators of her fair fame by giving them his 
countenance. 

However, he silenced his conscience by saying to himself, 
This is the very last time I will consent to listen to their 
mad ravings, nor will I leave the place to-night until I have 
seen every face and learned the name and address of every 
one of the despicable conspirators ! ’’ 

Unshaken in his resolve was he when a few minutes later 
his guide turned into a narrow lane, where the crust of the 
snow was scarcely broken, and a chilly, damp wind swept at 
them, suggesting their proximity to the frozen river. 

Midway down this lane, Gordon Balfour very soon descried 
the dim outlines of a cottage among the trees, and his heart 
gave a great throb as they turned in at the open gate and he 
noticed that a placard upon the door gave the information 
that it was — To Let. 

This is the place,’’ the guide said. 

Balfour bowed; he did not require to be informed of the 
unpleasant fact. 

Every window was closed and securely boarded up, while 
not a ray of light escaped from the interior, a fact which was 
the more surprising, since upon entering the house a couple 
of candles were found brightly burning upon a deal table, 
the only piece of furniture which the cheerless room boasted. 

Passing directly through this front room, the guide led the 
gentleman into a rear apartment, connected with the first by 
a glass door, before which hung a fragment of tattered mus- 
lin, a sad remnant of pa^t comfort and occupancy. 

This door was immediately closed, though as a pane of 


THE HEIRESS OF A M/LZ/OM 131 

glass in the framework was broken and the muslin was but 
shadowy, it was both easy to hear and see anything that 
might be destined to take place in the front room. 

The adjoining chamber was in dense darkness, except in 
so far as the candle light penetrated the muslin shade and 
rendered the darkness visible. 

Gordon Balfour had scarcely taken his first breath in this 
place of ambush, ere the darkness in one of the corners 
gradually took form, and as if by magic the figure of a 
woman, clad and veiled in closest black, advanced a step or 
two. 

Fearless though he was, the gentleman could not repress 
an involuntary start as for the third time he found himself 
in the presence of the veiled woman, the mysterious un- 
known. 

There was an awkward pause of a moment, and then that 
same low, melodious voice penetrated the folds of that im- 
penetrable veil. 

“ You have done well to heed our third and last warning, 
Mr. Balfour,’’ it said. 

He shrugged his shoulders with haughty indifference, as 
he replied, 

It is not that I attach the slightest importance to your 
impertinent jugglery that I am here to-night ! ” 

Why, then, have you obeyed our summons ? ” 

“ Because I wished to see how far your folly could be 
carried, and because I have resolved not to leave this place 
until I have seen your face and know exactly who you are ! ” 

‘‘ You are determined, then, not to believe anything you 
hear ? ” 

‘‘ Determined ! ” 

‘‘ What if you were to see incontestible proofs of our accu- 
sation ? How would it be t/ien ? ” 

‘‘That would depend upon circumstances,” he replied 
proudly, though his brave heart sickened with a dread ap- 
prehension. 


132 


A COACHMAN^ S LOVE; OR. 


Can you wait patiently until the time arrives ? the un- 
known pursued. 

I am here for that purpose, yes.^’ 

You will not be long delayed. Hark!'* 

Gordon Balfour’s blood ran cold. 

A distant bell was chiming the hour from its doleful, brazen 
throat. 

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, — 
eleven ! 

“ The time has come ! ” 

Balfour heard the words, though he had lost all cognizance 
of his surroundings, and was unaware that he and the veiled 
woman occupied the room alone, his guide having retired 
by some unseen door. 

The silence of the tomb reigned throughout the deserted 
place, and several minutes elapsed ere footsteps approaching 
the cottage became distinctly audible. 

They are coming,” whispered the low, melodious voice ; 
“keep your eyes upon the glass-do«r.” 

Who was coming ? 

What was he about to see ? 

He fixed his dilated eyes upon the lighted room be- 
yond. 

The outer door opened and closed, giving ingress to two 
figures, a man and a woman. 

Both were concealed in wraps. 

Somehow or other the man’s graceful figure was familiar, in 
spite of the ulster coat that almost touched the floor ; but the 
woman, who was she ? 

Balfour leaned forward and stared through the muslin 
screen. 

Suddenly the woman loosened her dark mantle and allowed 
it to fall about her upon the floor ; and simultaneously a wild 
gasp escaped the agonized watcher. 

He raised his clenched hands as though he would dash the 
frail glass to atoms, and he would probably have carried his 


“ THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION. 


^33 


madness into effect had not a firm, detaining hand been laid 
upon his shoulder. 

“ Stop where you are ! breathed the veiled unknown ; 
‘‘would you ruin all? You are upon the eve of the living 
truth.' Command yourself, and learn from the lips of the 
woman you have raised to the level of an angel whether she 
be guilty, or not guilty 1 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

IN THE SNARE. 

Well might Gordon Balfour stagger forward with a rending 
gasp and press his livid face against the thin veil of muslin 
which protected him from the observation of the pair which 
had just entered the front room of the lonely, untenanted 
cottage. 

The cloak which had fallen to the floor revealed the figure 
of a graceful woman robed in velvet and satin of delicate tints, 
a profusion of priceless pearls which glowed in the candle light, 
and a mass of blonde hair, upon the dishevelled splendor of 
which rested a crown of faded azaleas. 

The unhappy man did not notice these details ; his blazing 
eyes rested searchingly upon that pallid, but defiant face, 
the face of Adelaide Balfour, his wife. 

The lady swept a disdainful glance around the unfurnished 
chamber and turned upon her companion, who had neither 
removed his hat nor the muffler which concealed his features. 

“Why have you presumed to bring me to such a place as 
this ? she demanded haughtily. 

“ Because I have something important to say to you,’’ was 
the reply. 

“ And I can assure you I should never have accompanied 
you here, had I not recognized you in spite of your disguise,” 
was the defiant rejoinder. 

“ And whom do you suppose I am ? ” 

“ Howard Pelham.” 

“ What makes you think so ? ” 


134 ^ COACHMAN^ S LOVE; OR, 

Your voice.’’ 

‘‘Voices are sometimes similar; it is not always safe to 
trust to a tone ; however, we will let that pass for the present 
and attend to more urgent needs.” 

“Well, proceed. I am listening, and have no wish' to be 
detained longer than is absolutely necessary.” 

Gordon Balfour could not repress a thrill of relief and ex- 
ultation at the queenly bearing of his wife, despite the galling 
annoyance at finding her the dupe of the man he had ever 
trusted as a gentleman and had made his friend. 

Perhaps, after all, his enemies were to be routed and the 
purity and innocence of the woman he adored proved beyond 
a doubt. 

In such a case he had not come there in vain. 

Alas, for the fleeting hope ! The very next words which 
were uttered aroused all the old suspicions with redoubled 
power. 

“ I have brought you here,” said the man, whose voice re- 
sembled Pelham’s,- “ to warn you that the cards you have 
been playing with such a high hand have come to an end.” 

“ I fail to understand you,” Adelaide Balfour replied dar- 
ingly. 

“ Shall I speak more plainly ? ” 

“ Why not ? ” with a derisive shrug of the graceful shoul- 
ders ; “ we are apparently quite entre nous here.” 

“ Well then, the avengers of the dead Oscar Cameron are 
now prepared to demand their price from his murderess.” 

Balfour pressed his livid face against the glass, his dilated 
eyes starting from their sockets. 

How would she meet this challenge ? Would she confront 
it with haughty disdain as it merited ? 

A dread stupefaction 'settled upon him, as though an icy 
hand had griped his wildly-beating heart, as he saw his wife 
blanch to the hue of death, though she commanded herself 
sufficiently to reply, 

“ What is the price they demand ? ” 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION, 135 

They demand your downfall from the dizzy pinnacle to 
which you have climbed/’ 

“ And how do they intend to bring that about ? she asked, 
still proudly. 

By confronting your husband with the letters for which 
you have offered ten thousand dollars.” 

Gordon Balfour felt as though his very life were leaving 
him. 

‘‘ Such letters do not exist ! ” the guilty woman fairly 
screamed, her composure vanishing as she found herself con- 
fronted with the fearful truth. 

For answer the man drew from his pocket a dainty sheet 
and held it before her dilated eyes. 

She sprang at it and snatched it as a serpent falls upon 
his prey ; but her movement was received with a derisive 
laugh. 

You recognize this letter as one of the missing ten ? ” he 
said coldly. 

She did not reply ; only tore the letter into minute bits and 
scattered them about her like a madwoman. 

You are welcome to that one,” the mocking voice said ; 
“ but do not forget that there are nine others which are 7iot 
destroyed.” 

“ Where are they ? ” she gasped, in a voice which was no 
longer to be recognized. 

“ In safe keeping, ready for use at a moment’s warning.” 

Quick as lightning an astounding change took place ; hau- 
teur and defiance vanished, giving place to an ahandon of de- 
spair. With a low, wailing cry, Adelaide Balfour cast herself 
upon her knees before her accuser and madly clutched at the 
hem of his coat. 

“.Howard, Howard Pelham ! ” she cried in wild despera- 
tion, “ by the love you once bore my child, I beg you to have 
mercy upon me I I am guilty, I will no longer strive to deny 
it, but for God’s sake, for the hope of your immortality here- 
after, do not betray me ! ” 


136 


A COACHMAN'S LOVE; OR, 


With folded arms, the disguised figure towered above her 
like the grim judge himself. 

“ Howard,’’ she went on madly, knotting her white hands 
in her lustrous hair until it broke loose from its jewelled 
bands and fell in a shower of gold upon her shoulders, “ How- 
ard, think of the old time when you loved my Rosalind, when 
you asked for her hand as the greatest boon that Heaven 
could bestow upon you ! Think of that and pause. You 
shall have Rosalind for your wife.” 

He drew back a step and gazed down upon the crouching 
woman. 

‘‘ Rosalind is promised to the dead,” he said, “ and she 
will remain true to her vow.” 

Adelaide Balfour threw back her head, a gleam of the old 
pride illumining her ghastly features. 

Nonsense,” she breathed ; “ that girlish fancy is dead 
and buried long, long ago ! No, she shall be your wife, and 
together we three will go abroad and live a life, the merest 
hint of which would make your very pulses thrill ! Howard, 
do you hear me ? What do you say ? Is it a fair exchange 
for the weak revenge in which you can have no earthly per- 
sonal interest? Speak 1 tell me !” 

She gazed up at the muffled face pantingly, absolutely 
livid. 

How about your husband, Mrs. Balfour,” was the chill- 
ing rejoinder ; “ what is to become of him 1 ” 

“ It matters not to us ! ” she gasped breathlessly. “ I never 
loved him. I married him for an ambitious whim, supposing 
that with time I might learn to love him ; but love is as im- 
possible with one of his cold, haughty nature as ” 

“ Hold ! I have heard enough, Mrs. Balfour,” the calm 
voice interrupted ; ‘‘ I cannot stand here and listen to ^uch 
an outrage upon the noblest man who ever lived. No, I 
reject your offer of your daughter ; I no longer love, though 
I still respect hec as a pure and innocent girl, a strange 
freak of nature to be the offspring of such as^^?/^/” 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION. 


137 


‘‘ Howard ! '' she wailed, clasping her hands in a last appeal 
and bowing her blanched face upon them. 

I have told you not to trust to the sound of a voice,” the 
man said, quickly casting aside his hat and withdrawing the 
muffler from his face ; “ look at me ! Do I wear the linea- 
ments of Howard Pelham ? ” 

She raised her head, half rose to her feet, and with an in- 
sane shriek fell back upon the rough floor like one dead. 

That mad, despairing cry served as a signal, for upon the 
instant the door was thrown open and a second man bounded 
into the room. 

At sight of the prostrate lady he uttered a muttered excla- 
mation, and hastily raising her he bore her out into the night, 
whence the sound of sleigh-bells and the pawing of impatient 
horses penetrated the silent house. 

A moment or two later, and ere the stranger had altered 
his position, the same man sprang back again, a revolver 
clenched in his right hand. 

“ Now, villain 1 ” he cried, I ” 

The defiant words died upon his craven lips ; flinging the 
weapon from him he cast his arms in the air, and turning, 
fled out, madly crying, 

‘‘The dead! The dead I O, God in Heaven, preserve 
me!” 

For a time dead silence reigned throughout that humble 
cottage, now more terrible than the halls of eternal justice. 

At last a hand was laid upon Gordon Balfour’s arm, and 
he awoke from his trance of horror with a moan which told 
pitifully of the havoc the last half-hour had wrought in his 
noble soul. 

He raised his head and met the face of Howard Pel- 
ham. 

“ Is it you ? ” he breathed ; “ and was my wife here just 
now ? ” 

“ Yes,' my poor friend,” Pelham replied. 

“ Why was she so terrified at seeing you ? ” 


138 A COACHMAN^S LOVE; OR, 

The young man raised his hand, in which he held a mask 
cleverly painted to imitate the features of the dead. 

‘‘ Twice has she seen this mask,- ^ Pelham explained, and 
tv/ice has her guilty conscience overmastered her. You re- 
member the night of the ball in Gramercy Park when you 
found her insensible upon the floor of the garden-room ? ” 

Gordon Balfour groaned in abject misery. 

Presently he raised his hand and pointed to the dark figure 
near by,, who had cast aside her impenetrable veil. 

“ Who is that woman ? ’’ he asked faintly. 

“ The sister of the dead man ; her name is Myra Gameron.” 

Balfour nodded his head as though he scarcely realized what 
was said to him. 

Who was the man who brought me here ? ’’ he demanded. 

Your coachman, Eugene Clifford,” Pelham replied. 

‘‘ What interest has he in the downfall of my wife ? ” 

He was the dearest friend and comrade of the murdered 
man.” 

Again he bowed his head absently. 

“ Do not let me trouble you with my questions,” he faltered 
brokenly. 

‘‘ You do not trouble me, my poor friend,” Pelham replied 
kindly; “ask me what you will, and I will answer you.” 

“ Then I would like to kqow who the man was who carried 
my wife away from here ? ” 

“ Her accomplice in crime. The man was your servant, 
Rodney Denwood.” 

He started madly then, like a goaded animal. 

“ Great God ! ” he cried, “ could she fall so low and I not 
know it ? Well, the mask has fallen, my dream of life is 
broken. I know the woman now whom I have loved and re- 
vered ! I thank you all. Good-night 1 ” 

Mflth that he staggered out of their presence, out into the 
night, and the silence of the tomb brooded over the place. 

At last that silence was broken by -the voice of M5Ta Cam- 
eron. 

“God help her,” she murmured, “when they meet !” 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION, 


139 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

RETRIBUTION. 

There was a faint, grayish flush of returning day in the 
far east as Adelaide Balfour raised her head and shook off 
the spell which had rested upon her ever since her return 
from the Campton dinner. 

She was seated in a deep reclining-chair, of palest rose 
tinted satin, before the exquisite ormolu toilet-table in her 
dressing-room, an artistic little creation of the decorator, hung 
with white silk, embroidered by Chinese hands with a maze of 
airy roses, above which a myriad of butterflies poised them- 
selves upon wide-spread wings in the silvery sheen. 

Attired in a neglige toilette of snowy muslim and rich lace, 
her yellow hair braided in two heavy plaits upon her should- 
ers, she was angelic in her beauty, as she sat there in the 
soft radiance of the wax-lights, where they burned in silver 
sconces borne upon the backs of flying butterflies. 

No faintest trace of the night's agony remained to tell its 
tale of horror upon her features, for this woman possessed 
some occult power of disguising her hidden feelings ; her eyes 
alone, dark and luminous as a pool of black water upon which 
the refulgence of a fiery sunset rests, spoke volumes of the 
mad anxiety she was enduring. 

With an impatient sigh she glanced at the tiny Dresden 
clock upon the mantle. 

Half-past five ! " she murmured, her white teeth setting 
hard beneath her coral lips; “half-past five, and Vasquez 
not yet returned. What can have happened to him ? Have the 
wretches snared him too, or has he shown the white feather, 
and turned coward like that craven, Denwood ? Have I no 
one in this emergency upon whom I can depend ? " 

Even while the query trembled upon her lips a slight rustle 
in the adjoining room caught her listening ear, and an instant 
later the silken portiere was raised to admit the lithe, sinewy 
form of the Spaniard, Celio Vasquez, 


140 


A COACHMAN^S LOVE; OR, 


Mrs. Balfour sprang to her feet. 

“ Well, well,’' she breathed, ‘‘ what news ? ” 

“ None at all, madame,” was the calm reply. 

“ You saw no one ? you failed to learn who it was who 
spoke to me in that miserable cottage?” she demanded 
wildly. 

I went at once to the place, as you directed, madame,” 
the Spaniard said, “ but when I reached there the house was 
closed, and though I gained admittance by means of a broken 
window I found no living being within.” 

“ You have but half done your work ! ” she cried angrily: 
“ have I not always paid you handsomely for your duty to me ? 
Did you doubt my generosity now ? ” 

‘‘No, madame; you have been very generous, and your 
bounty has made me a rich man, almost as rich as a prince 
in my native country, whither I am going by the first steamer 
which leaves these shores.” 

She started with amazement. 

“You are going to leave me ? ” she gasped. 

“Yes, madame.” 

She pressed her costly handkerchief to her lips until the 
lace was torn to shreds by her clenched teeth. 

“ So be it,” she murmured after a pause, “ perhaps it is 
better so.” 

He bowed himself before her with that grace which is pecul- 
iar to his race, and turned to leave her ; ere, however, he 
could reach the archway she was upon him, and had laid a 
firm hand upon his shoulder. 

“ Stop ! ” she commanded ; “ I have a favor to ask of you. 
By your own confession, I have made you a rich man and 
you can now return to Spain to live in peace and comfort. 
Will you not, before you go, show some acknowledgment of 
my kindness ? ” 

“ What can I do for you, madame ? ” he asked, fixing his 
brilliant eyes upon her face. 

“ Your people are famed for their knowledge of toxicology. 


THE HEIRESS OF A MlLLIOH 


141 


Do you not know of some poison which will insure an instant 
and painless death, and yet defy the cunning of the physician’s 
art to detect the cause ? ” 

“Yes, madame, I do,” Vasquez replied, with a dark 
smile. 

“ Can you give me the recipe ? ” 

“ I can give you a few drops of the liquid itself, which will 
be better still,” he said, producing a small phial filled with 
an amber-tinted liquid. “ Considering the life I have l^d in 
this country, I have thought it wise to be prepared to cheat 
the gallows should its shadow ever rest upon me.” 

Adelaide Balfour shuddered violently as she extended her 
hand for the phial, but Vasquez shook his head. 

“ I cannot spare all,” he said ; “ six drops will be sufficient. 
Have you a phial ? ” 

She went to the toilet-table and selected an empty bottle 
from a perfume-case and handed it to the Spaniard. 

An instant later the murderous potion was tightly clenched 
in her white hand. 

“ Farewell, madame,” he said, but she had fallen upon her 
chair and vouchsafed him no reply. 

She heard the silken draperies fall behind his departing 
figure and knew that she had seen Celio Vasquez for the last 
time. 

“ I am glad he has gone,” she murmured, “ and yet his going 
seems to me an evil omen. Can it be that I shall ever have 
need of him again ? ” 

Hark ! What was that ? 

A step in the ante-chamber. 

Could it be that Vasquez was coming back ! 

She turned and glanced towards the archway; a hand 
raised the embroidered portiere^ and her husband entered. 

In spite of her enforced composure, Adelaide Balfour could 
not repress a cry of amazement at the face she saw. 

Never, since she knew him, had she seen Gordon Balfour 
look like that. 


A COACHMAI^'S LOVE; OR, 


! 4 ^ 

“Up so early, Gordon ? ” she exclaimed, “ why, it is hardly 
light 

“ I have not been in bed at all,” he replied in a strange 
harsh tone. 

“ Nor have I,” she said, with one of her fascinating smiles ; 
“ the Campton's dinner-party proved to be a fHe, and I re- 
turned scarcely an hour ago.” 

“You enjoyed yourself.^ ” 

“ More than I can tell you ! my only regret was that you 
were not there.” 

He bent a rigid stare upon her as he said, “ If I was not 
there, I was not far away ! ” 

The smile faded from her lovely features, and in its place 
a gray pallor stole up, almost disfiguring her. 

“ Not far away 'I ” she stammered ; “ where in the world were 
you ? ” 

“ In an untenanted cottage down by the river ! ” 

Her hand closed convulsively upon the phial she held, but 
she was far too stricken with terror to utter a sound. 

In the awful pause that ensued, Balfour continued steadily? 
“ I was an unseen witness of the scene which occurred be- 
tween you and a man whose face must have reminded you 
somewhat forcibly of a dead friend 

As he ceased speaking, she threw herself upon her knees 
before him with a wild, despairing cry, and sought wildly to 
embrace him with her outstretched arms, but he moved back 
out of her reach, and she fell forward upon her face at his 
feet 

“ Gordon, have mercy ! ” she shrieked. 

“ Had you mercy when you calmly plotted the death of an 
innocent man ? ” 

She raised herself and clasped her hands in mad anguish. 

“ It was done for love of you, Gordon ! ” she cried. 

“ Bah ! Enough of this impious lying ! ” he hissed. “ Mur- 
deress, traitress, vile woman, faithless wife ! I loathe you now 
with an intensity surpassing the love I once felt for you.” 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION, 


143 


She moaned and raved impotently, but failed to stay the 
torrent of his words, now that the flood-gates were open. 

“ Do not fear, if that is the cause of your excitement, he 
went on pitilessly, “ that it shall be any word of mine which 
shall send you to the gallows as you deserve. Were I alone 
the possessor of your hideous secret you might account your 
self safe: from the hangman^s noose, but there are others who 
seek your death — an outraged sister of the dead, a friend 
and comrade, I know not how many ! 

‘‘ Oh, God ! oh, my God ! ’’ she wailed. 

I counsel you to fly and cheat justice if you can ! From 
this moment we are strangers. Farewell, forever ! ” 

He turned and left her, while she, creeping after his re- 
treating figure, fell prostrate on the silver fur of the hearth-rug. 

How long she remained there was immaterial to her then. 
When at last a shudder passed over her graceful form, and 
she half raised herself upon her elbow, the rich laces having 
fallen back and exposed her chiselled arm, the rosy light of 
the glorious dawn had filled the dainty chamber and paled 
the wax-lights to dots of sickly, yellow flame. 

Her golden hair, loosened in her transports of agohy, fell 
about her face and shoulders in a lustrous veil. 

She was a picture to inspire the mightiest brush, as she 
raised the tiny phial and glanced with unutterable longing at 
its crystal contents. “Well said, Vasquez,^^ she whispered 
with an awful smile, “ you could indeed laugh at the hangman 
while you possessed this I 

She pressed the senseless glass to her lips, and kissed it 
with a fervor which she had never bestowed upon anything 
animate during the many years that she had queened it as 
a reigning leader in the world of fashion. 

An hour later the household at Riverdale was thrown into 
a state of the wildest confusion by a piercing shriek. 

Mrs. Balfour^s maid had discovered her fair mistress lying 
upon the hearth-rug in the full radiance of the rising sun, all 
her vaunted beauty in ashes about her, still, ghastly, dead. 


144 


A COACI/MAJV’S LOF£j OR, 


CHAPTER XXV. 

IN THE TWILIGHT. 

On the evening of the second day subsequent to the events 
narrated in the preceding chapter, and just as the sun was 
sinking behind the snow-clad hills beyond the Hudson, Myr^ 
Cameron sat at a window of the neat cottage near Riverdale, 
the crimson refulgence of the sunset tinging even the pallor 
of her stern face into warmth and beauty. 

Her dark, deep-set eyes rested calmly upon the entrancing 
scene, and she was thinking, “ My work in life is done ; my 
brother is avenged ; what more have I to live for 

Almost as though in reproach at her forgetfulness, the 
figure of Eugene Clifford dashed in at the garden gate at the 
instant, and a moment later he entered the room where the 
girl sat, and threw himself, spent and panting, upon a chair. 

Myra Cameron started to her feet with an exclamation of 
surprise. 

Eugene, what is it ? what news do you bring ? 

‘‘ Should I naturally be the bearer of news,’’ he answered 
evasively, coming as I do from a funeral ? ” 

You have seen the last of the woman who murdered Os- 
car ? ” Myra asked, with never a quaver in her voice. 

“ Yes.” 

‘‘ Tell me about it.” 

She was buried in the tomb of the Balfours ; there was 
a profusion of flowers. She was attired in her wedding dress, 
and looked ” 

“ I have no wish to hear how she looked. Was her hus* 
band there } ” 

‘‘ No. It is said he is very ill, though I doubt it. Miss 
Rosalind followed the body to the mausoleum and fainted in 
Lionel Balfour’s arms.” 

“ Poor girl ! But she knows nothing of her mother’s crime, 
and I pray God she never may.” 

‘‘Amen!” 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION. 


145 


They sat some time in silence, the purple shades of the 
wintry twilight deepening to solemnity about them. 

Presently Clifford spoke. 

‘‘ Myra,’’ he said cautiously, do you believe the judg- 
ment of Heaven would be as hard upon that unhappy woman 
if there had been some mistake, and Oscar had not been mur- 
dered after all ? ” 

She raised her burning eyes and pierced him through and 
through. 

What do you mean by such a question ? ” she demanded 
tremulously ; how could there have been any mistake ? ” 

I have always thought,” Clifford said with suppressed 
excitement, “ that if Oscar had been the victim the letters 
would surely have been found upon him.” 

Myra Cameron staggered to her feet and caught at the 
table for support. 

Eugene Clifford,” she breathed, “ it is too late for such 
talk as this, unless — unless ” 

Myra, be calm ! ” 

For Heaven’s sake, what do you mean ? You are tor- 
turing me ! You have heard something ! What is it ? Oh, 
Eugene, what have you heard ? ” 

‘‘ That there was a mistake ! ” he cried. 

And Oscar is not dead ? ” 

“ No ! He is not dead ! 

How do you know that ? ” she screamed. 

‘‘ From Oscar Cameron’s own lips ! ” 

The voice that uttered these last words came from the 
dusk behind them. 

There was a figure upon the threshold. Myra turned, and, 
with a piercing shri^, fell fainting in the arms outstretched 
to receive her. 

You broke the gooa news too suddenly,” Oscar Cameron 
said to his friend. i 

How could I help/it ? ” was the reply, when she guessed 
the truth and took the very words off my lips ? ” 


146 


A COACHMAN^S LOVE; 0A\ 


Yes, it was Oscar Cameron in the flesh, alive and well, a. 
little the rougher arid stronger for his two months' of travel 
in the west, but still the same handsome, noble fellow. 

As soon as Myra recovered her consciousness, of course 
he told his story. 

It appeared that upon the night of the 20th of November 
he went out with the card of appointment in his pocket to 
meet the unknown gentleman at the Fifth Avenue Flotel. 

On his way thither he fell in with an acquaintance who 
had just lost his place and was in despair to know hov/ to 
turn himself. 

Cameron was in a reckless frame of mind from the sup- 
posed treatment he had received from Rosalind, and was not 
anxious to - bind himself down to service immediately. The 
idea suggested itself that he would allow his needy friend to 
obtain the appointment, and he would journey about for a 
few weeks and try to steady himself. 

To think was to act with him ; the unfortunate fellow ac- 
cepted the card and kept the fatal appointment with Celio 
Vasquez, while Oscar penned a few hasty lines to his sister 
and started by the night train for the West. 

This note never reached Myra, for the reason that the boy, 
to whom it was entrusted, lost it in the darkness, and becom- 
ing alarmed, made the best of his way to I k; home and kept 
the secret and Oscar's silver piece to him: . k 

Subsequent letters from the West ne^. er reached the ago- 
nized sister, since when she removed fi cr.i I::: former lodgings 
she failed to leave any address behind r.cr. 

Of course Oscar was too proud in his inj ircd dignity to ad, 
dress Rosalind, and so the unfortiinal: in: ’ rehension was 
perpetuated. 

And it was only by the merest chance at ihey had been 
brought together now. 

Never quite able to stifle the one great ; -^ssion of his life, 
Oscar Cameron, upon his return to Nev. York, was seized 
with an uncontrollable desire to ree IW ai‘ d Vernon once 


THE HEIRESS OF A MILLION, 


147 


again, and upon inquiring learned that she was at River- 
dale. 

Thither he posted, arriving there upon the very day of 
Adelaide Balfour^s funeral, and the first person he met was 
his friend, Eugene Clifford. 

The remainder of the extraordinary story the reader is al- 
ready in possession of. 

When they had told him all that had happened in those 
two short months, Oscar inquired for his love. 

‘‘She has mourned you for dead, ’’ Myra told him, “but 
she has shown a loving devotion to your memory past all 
description.” 

Even while they were speaking there came a low rap at 
the door, and a moment later Rosalind Vernon herself entered 
the humble apartment. 

The snowy pallor of her sweet face was heightened by her 
mourning garments, but her curling flaxen hair was sufficient 
ornament for her angelic loveliness. 

As she appeared, Oscar Cameron sprang to his feet with a 
gasp and sought to conceal himself in an adjoining room ; 
but Rosalind had seen him, and came straight towards him 
with a firm step and outstretched hands, which she laid in 
his. 

“I came here to make my peace with your sister,” she 
said, “ and I find you ! ” 

“ You are surprised to see me ? ” he asked with suppressed 
ecstasy. 

“Very much ; I was not expecting you.” 

“You did not believe me dead ? ” 

“ No ; my heart never told me so.” 

“ Rosalind ! ” 

He caught her in his arms and smothered her with passion- 
ate kisses. 

When he glanced up after this first transport, Oscar found 
that they were alone, Myra and Eugene having discreetly 
withdrawn. 


148 


A COACHMAN^S LOVE; OR, 


‘‘Rosalind/^ he murmured, you permit me to love 
you ? ’’ 

“ Love is not bound by a permission that ever I heard of,” 
she breathed. 

‘‘ But I am so unworthy of you ! ” he exclaimed passion- 
ately. 

/ have never thought so.” 

But I cannot support you yet in the way you are accus- 
tomed to live.” 

I have enough for us both,” she said ; “ by the death of 
my mother, I find myself the heiress of a million.” 

‘‘ Oh, but I am so inferior to you ! ” 

“ Did I ever tell you so ? No, no,” with an arch smile, “ I 
fear I have ready answers for all your objections, truant ! ” 

Objections ! ah, Rosalind, you little guess how I love 
you ! ” 

That was a day of strangely mixed emotions for poor 
Rosalind, and in the happy future which was hers she fre- 
quently looked back and wondered how she ever lived through 
it all. 

They were quietly married in the early spring-time, and 
went to pass their honeymoon on the Jersey coast with Eugene 
and Myra Clifford. 

Of course Myra married her first true love ; that story of 
her . being the fiancee of Howard Pelham was all a ruse, in 
order that Myra and Rosalind might meet. 

Pelham has never married, and when last heard of was 
hunting tigers in the jungles of far India. 

Celio Vasquez returned to his native land, and Rodney 
Denwood vanished from the sphere of his usefulness never 
again to be heard of. 

Riverdale and the house in Gramercy Park remain closed 
to this day; Gordon Balfour and his heir are no longer 
residents of this country. 

It was a year after their marriage that Rosalind and Oscar 
went abroad to make the tour of Europe. 


THE HEIRESS OF A M/LL/OH. 


HO 


One brilliant day in Paris they were driving in the famous 
Hois de Boulogne^ when in a shady avenue a closed carriage 
dashed past them, and for an instant a withered face was 
presented at the window and then shrank out of sight. 

That face was the face of Gordon Balfour. 

The same evening Lionel called upon the happy pair at 
their hotel. 

“ My uncle is insane,’^ he said, and knows no one but 
me. It will be a mercy when he is taken away ’’ 

“ And joins poor mother,^’ Rosalind added. 

The two men looked at each other and exchanged a signifi- 
cant glance. 

“Yes,’’ Lionel said reverently, “ and may the sins done in 
the flesh be wiped away for the sake of Him who died that 
w'e might be saved ! ” 


THE END. 


GERTRUDE’S TEST. 


‘‘ You do not mean, Gertie, that you will marry Colonel 
Jardine for his money only? ” 

“ To be honest, Lucy, that is what I do mean — provided 
he proposes.’^ 

The speakers were two young ladies, who, seated in the 
French window of a handsome country house, were talking 
together with the unreserved confidence of intimate friends. 

Both were pretty and attractive, but the costly dress of one 
offered rather a contrast to the simple yet exquisite toilet of 
white lawn and lace worn by the other. 

“ I know,” Gertrude Clavering continued, rather thought' 
fully, “ that it does not sound practical or romantic ; but why 
should I be ashamed to acknowledge what I am not ashamed 
to do ? ” 

“ But I thought you liked his cousin ? ” 

“ So I do.” 

Better than you do Colonel Jardine ? ” 

She hesitated — then looked up and answered, frankly : 

“Yes, Lucy, I do; and if their fortunes were equal, I 
should unhesitatingly choose Philip Hilton. I wish,” she 
added, “that he, instead of Colonel Jardine, were the pros- 
pective heir of Beechhurst. Indeed, I think that he should 
have at least a share in the estate. He is Mr. Hastings’ 
nephew as well as the colonel.” 

“ But the money is the old gentleman’s, and he prefers to 
leave it to Colonel Jardine. Besides, Grace, Colonel Jardine, if 
not quite so handsome and fascinating as Mr. Hilton, is more 
noble and distinguished looking, and certainly more talented. 
He is one of those men whose love women are proud to 


GERTRUDES TEST. 


claim, because such are not lightly won. How is it that you 
cannot love him ? 

I don^t know. I like and admire him very much. In- 
deed, I don’t know of any one who is his superior. I wish I 
could love him, but I can’t.” 

‘‘ Strange ! ” 

‘‘ Yes. I don’t understand it myself ; but, then, who does 
understand such things ? ” 

And leaning back in the low chair, she hummed, carelessly : 

“ How love cometh and how love goeth, 

Truly it only is love can tell ; ^ 

The seed may fall as the wild wind bloweth — ” , 

^‘Oh, Gertie, dear, don’t take this matter so lightly!” 
interrupted her friend. You do not appear to realize what 
a dangerous thing it may prove to marry a man whom you 
don’t love — and for money.” 

Lucy, you talk as though these were the days of Corydon 
and Phillis, when lovers^ had only to sit on a bank of roses, 
and talk and think of love. It does very well for you, who 
have always had everything you could wish for ; but, oh, if 
you knew how I have all my life suffered for want of means 
to purchase pleasure and enjoyment, and the luxuries which 
you do not appreciate because you never knew what it was 
to miss them ! If you knew all this, you would not blame me 
for marrying for money.” 

I never thought that you cared much for dress and such 
things,” said Louise. 

Nor do I, except so far as one would wish to be tastefutly 
and becomingly attired. But I love the beautiful — I like 
luxury. I want to have all around me elegant, refined, and 
tasteful — pictures, books, music, and luxury of every kind. 
I want to travel. I want to entertain my friends in an ele- 
gant home, where there will be everything for their enjoyment. 
And I want to do good, and make poor people happy. Then, 
too, I want to be independent of my dear, good uncle, to 
whom I must, of course, be no inconsiderable expense. In 


152 


GERTRUDES TEST, 


short, I want money — and this Colonel Jardine can give me, 
if I become his wife.’’ 

“ But the injustice to him ?” 

“ Don’t trouble yourself on that point. It is not my intern 
tion to deceive and impose upon him. If he will take me 
without love, I am his.” 

But he won't, or I am very much mistaken in the man.” 

Gertrude Clavering shrugged her fair shoulders. 

“ If so, so be it. I must wait for some one who will take 
me on my own terms ; and, as I am only twenty, I can 
afford to wait yet awhile.” 

Just here a servant entered with a card. 

‘‘Colonel Jardine! I thought so,” said Gertrude, with a 
smile and a blush. 

“ Rather early for an ordinary call, isn’t it ? ” suggested 
her friend. “ Oh, I see ! This is the decisive crisis. Well, 
I will go up stairs and see your sister, Gertrude ; but I feel 
so sorry for you — and for him ! ” 

“ Nonsense ! I am not going to compel him to marry 
me,” answered Gertrude, laughing ; “ so keep your sym- 
pathies till called for.” 

She paused for a moment before a mirror, and gave one 
or two dainty touches to her light, rippling hair. Her cheek 
was flushed, and her hand trembled. 

“ Your lecture has unnerved me. I am almost afraid to 
meet him,” she whispered to Lucy, as she glided from the 
room. 

A faint perfume of flowers and a soft twilight pervaded 
the drawing-room. Gertrude paused in the doorway for a 
single instant, glancing shyly around. The light from the 
hall fell full upon her graceful figure and golden hair, and 
shone through the transparent tissue of her white dress. 

Colonel Jardine, as he rose and came forward to meet her, 
wore upon his lip a smile of irrepressible admiration and 
tenderness. 

“ I took the liberty of intruding at an unusual hour. I 


GERTRUDE'S TEST. 


^53 


hoped you would forgive me, as it was because I wished 
particularly to see you alone/’ 

She blushed divinely, and her hand trembled as she placed 
it shyly in that outstretched to her. 

What wonder that he should have drawn a flattering augury 
from these appearances ? What wonder that still retaining 
the hand, he bent forward and whispered to her the words 
at which a loving woman’s heart fills with bliss the sweetest 
and deepest that life can know 

But Gertrude Clavering’s heart did not thrill. There was 
not now even an expression of gratified pleasure on her face. 
On the contrary, a look almost of sadness stole into it, as 
with downcast eyes she listened to the fervid avowal of love. 

You do not answer me, Gertrude.” 

“ Colonel Jardine, you have asked me to marry you. If I 
do so — if I answ^er yes — it must be without — I mean I do 
not love you as perhaps I ought to do, in order to become 
your wife.” 

“ Gertrude ! ” 

‘‘ I respect, I like, I esteem you — if this will satisfy you.” 

“ Perhaps, since you are willing to marry me, you do love 
me a little.” 

‘‘ No ; I must be candid. It is not love that I feel for 
you. I know this because if you were a poor man, I should 
not be willing to marry you.” * 

“ Then you would marry me because ” 

He could not bring himself to say the hateful words ; but 
Gertrude concluded the sentence : 

“ Because you are rich, and I like you, and dan trust my- 
self to you. If you cannot take me on these terms, say so, 
and we will remain friends. I should not like to lose your 
friendship.” 

I cannot give you up,” he said, passionately. I love 
you too much not to take you on any terms. Give me all 
the respect and liking that you can, and it may be that my 
great love may in time win a return.” 


154 


GERTRUDE'S TEST, 


Weeks wore on. Society understood that Miss Clavering 
was engaged to Colonel Jardine — or at least that there existed 
between them an “understanding’’ — and many were the con- 
gratulations she received on her conquest, while the gentle- 
men envied him his prize. 

Gertrude scarcely felt satisfied. ^ 

In a word, she was not in love with him, though there was 
not a single man of her acquaintance whom she so much es- 
teemed and admired. 

It was at a well-known and fashionable seaside resort that 
Miss Clavering was again, despite her engagement, a reign- 
ing belle. Colonel Jardine was there, and his cousin, who 
had avowed his intention of never giving her up, had also 
followed her hither. 

Her father and mother had married for love, she knew, 
but, under the grinding of poverty, love had lost his wings, 
and sank into a peevish, fretful, commonplace, household 
god. 

And Gertrude, thinking it all over, resolved that she would 
never marry a poor man. No, she would abide by the en- 
gagement she had formed. 

It happened one day that Gertrude and Mr. Hilton were 
two of a small party who had chartered a yacht for a sail, 
and had been out for some time when a storm sprang sud- 
denly up. The boat was accordingly put about, and, to re- 
lieve the fears of their fair companions, the rowers sped 
rapidly homeward. 

They were already nearing the shore, though still in deep 
water, when one of the gentlemen, standing up, the boat 
heeled over. 

Instantly a shriek and a rush to the opposite side of the 
boat nearly capsized it. In the sudden confusion one of the 
rowers lost his oar, and, stooping to regain it at the moment 
when a heavy swell struck the side, the light barque tilted, 
turned over, and the next moment was floating bottom up- 
ward on the waves. 


GERTRUDE'^S TEST. 


155 


Hilton^s voice rose high and shrill, amid the shrieks of the 
women. 

“ Help— help ! 

As the boat capsized, he seized Gertrude, who clung 
frantically to him. Each of the other gentlemen was similarly 
occupied, and for some moments they all floated on the sur- 
face — the men, with their fair burdens, making the best of 
their way toward the shore. 

There, people were running wildly about, seeking for 
boats to go to the rescue — for none were willing to trust 
themselves in the water, lashed into fury as it was by the 
storm. 

Hilton was an expert swimmer, but now found his motions 
impeded by the frantic clasp of Gertrude. 

‘‘ For Heaven’s sake ! ” he cried, endeavoring to unloose 
her arms, “ do not cling to me so, or we shall both be 
lost.” 

And he made a desperate attempt to get in front of the 
other swimmers. In vain ; he was plainly falling into the 
rear, and his strength was failing; and now, forgetful of 
Gertrude, he struck out frantically. 

‘‘ Hold on if you can,” he gasped ; “ but don’t put your 
arms around me — don’t pull me down.” 

Grace did hold on, with all the strength of terror and de- 
spair, as he struck out vigorously. But she soon felt that her 
grasp was failing, and she grew faint and dizzy. 

‘‘ Save me ! hold me ! ” she cried, in frantic terror. 

A fresh and more vigorous stroke sent Philip Hilton dart- 
ing through the water. He did not look back, though he 
felt the grasp loosed from his clothing. White with terror, 
he sped onward, passing a stern, determined face, which did 
not even glance aside at him as it pushed forward, with fixed 
and eager eyes. 

“Gertrude! Gertrude! do not fear! I am near you — I 
will save you. Keep your hands down under the water. I 
will reach you in a moment.” 


156 


GERTRUDE'S TEST, 


She heard the words as she slowly sank beneath the waves. . 
She felt a touch, a warm, human grasp — a man^s arm, which 
held her to him with an iron grip — and then for hours she 
remembered no more. 

* # # * # 

For several days Gertrude Clavering was unable to quit 
her room, but almost the first visitor she received was Philip, 
whom she met in a very quiet and composed manner. She 
was looking pale, subdued, and somewhat absent. She had 
not apparently, recovered from the great shock of her narrow 
escape from a fearful death. 

Mr. Hilton essayed to explain how the unfortunate “ ac- 
cident had occurred. 

‘‘ I did the best that I could ; I thought that you had a 
firm hold of me, and you cannot imagine my horror on find- 
ing that you had loosened your grasp. Why did you, Ger- 
trude If you had been lost, I — I should not have wished 
to have lived. Don’t you believe me } 

“ Yes,” she said, quietly. “ I know you would have been 
very sorry.” 

Why do you speak so coldly, Gertrude } I thought — I 
had hoped that you loved me.” 

“I thought so, too. Perhaps I was mistaken — perhaps 
the waves have washed it all away.” 

A day or two thereafter, Lucy entered her room excited 
and eager. 

‘‘ Oh, Gertrude, I have just heard some news ! Poor old 
Mr. Hastings is dead, and, unaccountably, has left his large 
fortune to Mr. Hilton instead of, as was naturally supposed, 
to Colonel Jardine.” 

A few hours brought confirmation of her report. People 
knew that the relative prospects of the two young men were 
reversed, and some wondered whether it would make a differ- 
ence with Miss Clavering. Others confidently predicted that 
it would. They knew that she had liked Hilto^, and they 
saw that of late she had been a little more shy and reserved 


GERTRUDKS TEST, 


157 


toward the colonel. She might be willing to overlook the 
boating episode, provided Mr. Hilton renewed his attentions* 

He came down to see Gertrude shortly after this sudden 
good fortune. He was really very much in love with her, 
according to his capacity for loving ; and he was now anxious 
to prove it by offering himself and his fortune to her accept- 
ance. 

I will answer you to-morrow,’’ said Gertrude. ‘‘ I must 
think it all over, and be quite sure of myself before I decide.” 

On the morrow Colonel Jardine, whom she had not seen 
for some time, made his appearance at her uncle’s house. 

She went down stairs to see him, with a flushed cheek and 
beating heart. 

He turned slowly on her entrance, and a flickering flame 
of the low fire leaped up into a blaze, and showed his pale 
face, set and cold, and his dress, usually so faultless, now 
careless and neglected, 

Gertrude gave a little exclamation of dismay on seeing him 
thus. 

You have been ill ? ” she said. 

No, not ill,” he answered, with his usual air of self-posses- 
sion and dignity — not ill, but troubled and harassed.” 

‘‘You know what has happened, Gertrude. I am a poor 
man now, and, according to the terms of our engagement ” — 
he smiled ruefully — “ we are to consider it annulled. You 
are free, of course, and I have come to tell you so, and to 
take leave of you.” 

“ Where are you going? ” she said, softly. 

“ Back to India, and begin life anew — a poor man.” 

She made no answer ; her eyes looked wistfully into his 
and half filled with tears. 

“ I see that you are sorry for me, Gertrude. I have lost 
you as well as the fortune I had anticipated. I would not 
care for the latter, if — but this is useless. In any event I 
could not ask the woman I love to give up everything to share 
poverty with me. Under other circumstances, I would still 


GERTRUDE'S TEST 


I5S 

have hoped to win your love in time ; but that is all over 
now.” 

Gertrude was silent, but her bosom heaved as with some 
strong emotion. 

“We shall still be friends, shall we not.^” he said, wist 
fully. 

“ Always,” she answered, looking up into his eyes with a 
look of tearful tenderness, and giving him her hand. 

He clasped it closely in both of his. 

“ Oh, Gertrude, it goes to my heart to give you up ! ” 

“ Then don’t,” she answered, gently. 

He looked at her earnestly. She met the look with tear 
dimmed eyes. 

“ Gertrude ! is it possible Have I not told you that I 
am a poor man ? ” 

“ Yes ; but I am willing to marry you as a poor man.” 

“ Why do you say tills ? ” 

“ Because I love you /” she murmured. 

The first caress he had ever taken he ventured upon now, 
when he took her in his arms, and whispered : 

“ My own darling ! ” 

Mr. Hilton got his answer that evening. 

And Gertrude, as she sat before her fire alone, with a 
heart thrilling with a strange, new bliss, murmured softly to 
herself : 

“ How love cometh and how love goeth, 

Truly it only is love can tell.” 


THE END. 












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► 



IfIRS. AI.FX McVElGH MIL.EER'1^ WORKiS. 

No. 1. A Dreadful Temptation .... 20 Cents. 

The Bride of the Tomb SX) 

An Old Man’s Darling ^ “ 

Queenie’s Terribie Secret 20 “ 

Jaquelina ^ “ 

Little Golden’s Daughter ^ “ 

The Rose and the Lily 20 “ 

Countess Vera 20 

Bonnie Dora 20 

Guy Kenmore’s Wife ^ ** 


2 . 

3. 

4. 

5. 

6 . 

7. 

8 . 
9. 

10 . 


19. 

20 . 


GEORGE ELIOT’S WORKS. 

•* 11. Janet’s Repentance 10 

“ 1^ Silas Marner 10 

“ 13. Feiix Holt, the Radical 20 

“ 14. The Mill on the Floss 20 

*‘ 1.5. Brother Jacob 10 

“ 16. Adam Bede 20 

“ 17. Romola 20 

18. Sad Fortunes of Rev. Amos Barton 10 

Daniel Deronda 20 

Middlemarch 20 

“ 21. Mr. Gilftl’s Love Story 10 

22. The Spanish Gypsy 20 

23. Impressions of Theophrastus Such 10 

HIISCELl.ANEOLS WORKS. 

24. The Two Orphans. By D*Ennery 10 

25. Yolande. By William Black 20 

26. Lady Audley’s Secret. By Miss Braddon 20 

27. When the Ship Comes Home. By Besant & Rice lO 

28. John Halifax, Gentleman. By Miss Mulock 20 

29. In Peril of his Life By Gabor iau ^ 

30. The Romantic Adventures of a Milkmaid 10 

Molly Bawn. By the Duchess 20 

Portia. By the Duchess 20 

Kit; a Memory. By James Payne .20 

East Lynne. By Mrs. Henry Woo l 20 

Her Mother’s Sin. By Bertha M. Clay 10 

A ;^incess of Thule. By William Black 20 

Phyllis. By the Duchess. 20 


31. 

32. 

33. 

34. 

35. 

36. 

37. 


38. David Copperfield. By Charles Dickens 20 

39. Very Hard Cash. By Charles Reade 20 

40. Ivanhoe. By Sir Walter Scott 20 

41. Shirley. By Miss Bronte 20 

42. The Last Days of Pompeii. By Bulwer Lytton 20 

43. Charlotte Temple. By Miss Rowson 10 

“ 44. Dora Thorne. By Bertha M. Clay 20 

“ 4.5. Old Curiosity Shop. By Charles Dickens 20 “ 

“ 46. Camille. By Alex. Dumas, Jr 10 ** 

“ 47. The Three Guardsmen. By Alex. Dumas 20 ** 

“ 48. Jane Eyre By Charlotte Bronte 20 ** 

“ 49. Romance of a Poor Young Man. By Feuillet 10 ** 

“ 50. Back to the Old Home. By Mary Cecil Hay 10 ** 

51. Maggie; or, the Loom Girl of Lowell. By William Mason Turner, M. D.20 ** 

“ 52. Two Wedding Rings. By Margaret Blount 20 *• 

“ 53. Led Astray. By Helen M. Lewis 20 ** 

54. A Woman’s Atonement. By Adah M. Howard 20 ** 

“ .55. False. By Geraldine Fleming 20 ** 

“ ,56. The Curse of Dangerfield. By Elsie Snow 20 ** 

“ 57. Ten Years of His Life. By Eva Evergreen 20 ** 

“ 58. A Woman’s Fault. By Evelyn Gray 20 

“ 59. Twenty Years After. By Alex. Dumas 20 ** 

60. A Queen Amongst Women and Between Two Sin.s. By Bertha M. Clay .20 ** 

61. Madolin’s Lover. By Bertha IsT. Clay 20 “ 

Thaddeus of Warsaw. By Jane Porter 20 ** 

Liicile. By Owen Meredith 20« *' 

Charles Auchester. By E, Berger 20 ** 

A Strange Story. By Bulwer 20 ** 

Aurora Fl<wd. By Miss Braddon 20 “ 

“ 67. Barbara’s History. By Amelia B. Ed wards. ...20 ** 

“ Called to Account. By Annie Thomas 20 ** 

“ 69. Old Myddleton’s Money. By Mary Cecil Hay 20 ** 

“ 70. Thorns and Orange Blossoms. By Bertha M. Clay. Complete 10 ** 

Remember that we do not charge extra for postage. Monro’s Library will be 
sent to any part of the world, single numbers for 10 cents, double numbers for 
20 cents. 

NORMAN L. MUNRO, PUBLISHER, 

24 & 26 Vandewater St., N. Y. 


62. 

63. 

04 . 

65. 

66 . 


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